PHILOSOPHY  OF  EHETOEIC, 


BY 


JOHN  BASCOM, 

AUTHOR  OF   "  AESTHETICS,  OR  SCIENCE  OP  BEAUTY,"    "  SCIENCE 
OF  MIND,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  SUPPLIED  BY  HORACE  H.  MORGAN. 

PRINCIPAL  OP  ST.  LOUIS  HIGH  SCHOOL  AND  AUTHOR  OP  LITERARY  STUDIES  PROM 
THE  GREAT  BRITISH  AUTHORS,  ETC. 


NEW    EDITION. 


UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YORK. 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS, 

27  &  29  W.  23o  STREET, 
1885. 


Copyright  1882, 

^//3Y?-tf 

Br  G    P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 


an 

J& 


PREFACE. 


THERE  is  much  seeming  boldness  in  offering 
a  new  work  on  Rhetoric.  Few  subjects  have  re- 
ceived so  much  attention  from  so  many  able 
writers.  The  following  treatise  has  arisen  from 
considerable  experience  in  instruction.  It  aims 
to  be  what  it  is  entitled,  a  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHET 
ORIC,  giving  the  principles  as  well  as  the  rules 
on  which  excellence  depends.  The  discussions 
present  the  mental  and  moral  laws  of  influence. 
The  work  is  chiefly  designed  for  the  later  years 
of  collegiate  instruction.  A  simple  rhetoric  of 
rules  prepares  the  beginner  for  his  earlier  efforts : 
afterward,  when  the  nature  and  difficulties  of  the 

(3) 


4  PREFACE. 

task  are  better  understood,  he  is  ready  for  a 
somewhat  more  extensive  and  philosophical  dis- 
cussion of  the  principles  it  involves.  A  complete 
and  succinct  statement  of  these  is  the  object  of 
this  work,  and  it  is  designed  to  take,  in  a  course, 
of  training,  a  later  position,  such  as  is  assigned 
Whately  or  Campbell. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

PAGK, 

Science,  Art,  Definitions  of.  —  Relations  of.  —  Principles.  —  Rules.  — 
Skill.— Rhetoric,  what.  — Its  Relations  to  Arts  and  Sciences.  —  Its 
Philosophy,  what.  — Four  Steps.  — Relations  of  Rules  to  Nature,  to 
Genius,  to  Success •••  9-20 

BOOK  I.    Ends. 

CHAPTER   I. 
DEPARTMENTS  OF  COMPOSITION. 

No  Composition  aimless.  —  Leading  Aims.  —  Three  Departments  of 
Composition. —  Relation  of  the  Understanding,  Emotions,  and  Will. 
—  Historic  Progress 21-27 

CHAPTER    II. 
PROSE. 

Double  Office  of.  — History.— Philosophy.  — Novel. —  Prose  allows  no 

distinct  Form 28-31 

CHAPTER    III. 
POETRY. 

Rhetoric  includes  Poetry;  why?— Kind  of  Emotions  called  forth.— Its 

Relations  to  Metre;  to  Esthetics. 32-35 

CHAPTER    IV. 
ORATORY. 

Its  End.  — This  defines  the  Means.  — Relation  to  Hearers;  to  Speaker.— 
Divisions  of.  —  Three  Sources  of  Impulse.  —  The  Right,  Emotions 

(5) 


6  CONTENTS. 

sustaining  it.  —  Pleasure,  Emotions  giving-  Rise  to  it.  —  Interest. — 
Its  Emotions.  — Pulpit  Oratory.  —  Advantages.  —  Difficulties.  —  Ad- 
dress to  the  Individual.  —  To  the  Assembly  collectively.  —  Delibera- 
tive Oratory. —  Eloquence  of  the  Bar 36-52 


BOOK  II.    Means. 

Two  Kinds.—  Division  especially  applicable  to  Oratory 53,54 

CHAPTER    I. 
LAW  OF  INFLUENCE. 

Relation  of  the  Individual  to  others.  —  Law  of  Influence  that  of  Right. 
—  Obligation  of  Speaker  to  himself;  to  others.  — -  Necessary  to  Suc- 
cess. —  Nature  of  Oratory. 55-62 

CHAPTER    II. 
ARGUMENTS. 

Sources  of  Proof,  two:  Intuition,  Experience.  —  Four  Forms  of  Intui- 
tive Proof.  —  Experience.  —  Connections  on  which  it  proceeds.  —  Fal- 
lacies.—  Testimony,  two  Kinds:  of  Fact,  of  Opinion.  —  The  two 
confounded.  —  Calculation  of  Chances.  —  Proof  either  Intuitive  or 
Rationative.  —  Arguments  Inductive  or  Deductive.  —  Character  of 
each.  —  Principles  which  determine  the  Choice  and  Arrangement 
of  Arguments.  — Burden  of  Proof.  —  Different  Forms  of  Oratory. — 
Treatment  of  Opponent.  —  Answering  Objections. —  Importance  of 
Argument 63-94 

CHAPTER    III. 
EMOTIONS. 

Relation  of.  —  Sympathy,  Office  of.  —  Estimate  of  Speaker's  Character. — 
Sects  and  Parties.  — Office  of  Introduction.  —  Qualities  which  win 
Sympathy.  —  Effect  on  Orator. —  Kinds  of  Feeling  to  be  used  by 
Orator. —  How  secured.  —  Growth  of  Fegling.  —  How  remove  ad- 
verse Feeling.  —  Two  States  interfering  with  Success.  .  .  .  95-112 

CHAPTER    IV. 
IMAGINATION  AND  MEMORY. 

Instrumental  Faculties.  —  Imagination,  Source  of  vivid  Ideas,  of  Convic- 
tion.—  Sources  of  Imagery.  —  Memory.  —  Importance.  —  Method  of 
Employment 113-118 


CONTENTS.  7 

i 

\  v 

x 

CHAPTER    V. 
WIT,  HUMOR,  AND  RIDICULE. 

Definitions.— The  Resemblance  in  Wit.  — Habit  of  Mind  to  which  it 

gives  Rise.  —  Its  Office.—  Ridicule.  —  Its  Office.     '.      .      .      .     119-124 

CHAPTER    VI. 
LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE. 

Relations  of  Language  to  Thought.  —  Growth  of  Language.  —  Lead- 
ing Constituents.  —  Change  in  Words.  —  Their  Meaning.  —  Their 
figurative  Force.  —  Philosophy.  —  Use.  —  Qualities  of.  —  Purity.  — 
Propriety.  —  Why  regard  these  Qualities. —  Permanence. —  Symme- 
try. —  Intelligibility.  —  How  Use  established.  —  Divided  Use.  — 
Canons 125-151 

CHAPTER    VII. 
BARBARISM. 

Kinds.  —  Foreign  Words.  —  Provincialisms.  —  Vulgarisms.  —  Obsolete 

Words. —Compounds.  — Rules  for  Formation 152-158 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
SOLECISM  AND  IMPROPRIETY. 

Solecism,  what.  —  Arrangement.  —  Marks  of  Declension.  —  Frequent 
Solecisms.  —  The  Verb.  —  Moods.  —  Tenses.  —  Passive  Forms.  — 
Conjunctions.  —  Improprieties. —  Synonymes.  —  Plurals.  —  Effect  of 
Solecisms;  of  Improprieties •  .  159-178 

BOOK  III.    Methods. 

CHAPTER    I. 
STYLE. 

Style,  what.  —  Kinds.  —  Qualities.  —  Perspicuity.  —  Elegance.  —  Energy. 

—  Relation  of  these  to  each  other;  to  Mind;  to  Composition.    .    179-184 

CHAPTER    II. 
PERSPICUITY. 

Importance  of.— Relation  to  Capacity;  to  Subject.  —  Dependence  on 
Honesty;  on  Discipline;  on  the  Choice  of  End;  of  Means.  — Di- 
visions. —  Comparisons.  —  Objects  of.  —  Antithesis.  —  Choice  of 


8  CONTENTS. 

Words.  —  Drollery.  —  Common  Life.  —  Anglo-Saxon.  —  Number  of 
Words.  — Arrangement.  —  Adverbs.  —  Pronouns.  —Perspicuity,  rel- 
ative. —  Not  always  needed  in  full  Degree 185-206 

CHAPTER    III. 
ELEGANCE. 

What. —  Dependence  on  Emotions.  —  Relation  to  various  Kinds  of 
Composition. —  Exercise,  in  Nature,  in  Society,  fn  Literature.  —  Re- 
lation between  Style  and  Subject;  between  the  Parts  and  the  Whole. 
—  Proportion.  —  Relation  between  the  Discourse  and  the  Circum- 
stances and  Persons.  —  Relation  to  the  Speaker 207-222 

CHAPTER   IV. 
ENERGY. 

Dependence  on  the  Desires;  on  the  Will;  on  Virtue;  on  the  Distinct- 
ness of  the  End.  — Three  Forms:  Strength,  Vivacity,  Vigor.  — Qual- 
ities of  Thought.  —  Thoroughness.  —  Rapidity.  —  Directness.  —  Di- 
rectness, how  lost,  by  Philosophical,  by  Poetical  Excellence.  —  Choice 
of  Words.  —  Speciality.  —  Strength  of  Words.  —  Asseverations.  — 
Epithets.  —  Number  of  Words.  —  Tautology.  —  Pleonasm.  —  Ver- 
bosity. —  Arrangement.  —  Period.  —  Loose  Sentence.  —  Figures.  — 
Tropes.  —  Delivery 223-248 


INTRODUCTION. 


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SCIENCES  and  arts,  though  closely  related,  are  in 
themselves  quite  distinct.  This  difference  we  need  to 
understand  for  the  right  apprehension  of  either.  A 
science  has  reference  to  an  intellectual  end ;  an  art,  to 
a  practical  end :  the  one  informs  and  gratifies  the  mind 
by  a  knowledge  of  the  real  character  and  dependence 
of  things ;  the  other  guides  and  fortifies  life  in  their 
use  and  government.  A  science  is  a  stricter  form  of 
knowing ;  or,  accurately,  it  is  a  department  understood 
in  its  facts  and  laws.  The  impulse  of  knowledge  which 
belongs  to  mind  urges  it  ever  to  inquire,  What  is  ?  and, 
Why  it  is?  And  these  questions  fully  and  wisely  an- 
swered give  science. 

An  art  is  the  application  of  knowledge  —  is  that  system 
of  rules  by  which  we  reach  a  practical  end.  Not  every 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

end  is  so  fixed  or  inclusive  as  to  involve  any  methods 
of  action,  any  determinate  means,  the  mastery  of  which 
makes  the  artisan.  Around  all  the  general  and  settled 
pursuits  of  life,  however,  are  clustered  guiding  precepts  , 
and  these  constitute  the  arts. 

Art  must  precede  science;  since  the  wants  of  life 
arise  at  once,  and  before  that  leisure  is  secured  which 
is  the  condition  of  inquiry  and  accurate  knowledge. 

The  imperfect  and  inaccurate  information  involved  in 
the  rudiments  of  art  and  civilized  life  will  not  be  ripened 
into  science,  till,  the  appetites  of  the  body  in  a  measure 
appeased,  the  mind  can  secure  attention  to  its  own 
wants.  This  step,  however,  once  taken,  the  sciences 
are  established  on  their  own  footing,  and  henceforward 
take  the  lead.  The  rules  of  art  become  the  scholiums 
of  knowledge  —  the  application  of  its  principles.  The 
foundation  of  a  complete  and  broad  control  of  Nature  is 
laid  in  an  extensive  understanding  of  her  forces.  Art 
can  hardly  reach  any  high  point  till  adopted  of  science, 
and  taken  under  her  instruction.  Though  our  inferior, 
physical  life  is  immediate  and  importunate  in  its  claims ; 
it  can  be  lifted  into  broad,  abundant,  and  safe  enjoy- 
ments only  as  it  is  endowed  with  the  mastery,  and 
protected  by  the  guidance,  of  the  intellect. 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

Skill  arises  from  a  practical  familiarity  with  rules. 
It  is  the  acquisition  by  muscle  and  mind  of  the  quick- 
ness, the  ease,  which  arise  from  habit.  Both  mind  and 
body  are  greatly  dependent  for  rapidity  and  precision 
of  action  on  practice.  To  this  the  artisan  and  orator 
owe  their  facility  and  power  of  execution.  The  acqui- 
sition of  skill  in  any  art  is  what  is  usually  understood 
by  learning  that  art.  As  skill  arises  from  a  transfer 
of  action  from  the  slow  and  hesitating  movements  of 
thought  to  the  quick  mechanical  movements  of  habit, 
from  a  conscious  effort  to  an  unconscious  power,  it 
depends  wholly  on  familiarity,  on  a  protracted  use  of 
rules.  This  is  as  true  in  higher  as  in  lower  art ;  of  the 
artist  as  of  the  artisan.  Elegance  of  manners,  ease  of 
expression,  and  even  the  highest  virtue,  arise  from 
forgetfulness  of  rules  in  their  perfect  and  unconscious 
application.  Facility  of  execution  we  may  expect,  there- 
fore, to  find  associated  with  rules ;  and  this  will  be  all 
the  greater,  because  of  their  limited  application. 

A  principle  as  involving  a  law  of  nature,  as  stating  a 
condition  under  which  all  action  takes  place,  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  a  rule.  The  one  is  a  specific  direc- 
tion by  which  a  given  end  is  reached ;  the  other,  a 
statement  of  that  method  or  order  of  Nature  to  which 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

any  of  her  phenomena  are  conformed.  A  knowledge  of 
principles  is  requisite  for  understanding  the  reason  of 
rules ;  for  fertility  and  fulness  of  resources  in  meeting 
untried  exigencies ;  for  the  subjugation  of  new  forces  in 
nature,  and  their  varied  application  beyond  the  stretch 
of  limited  experience.  Principles  give  us  scope  and 
power  in  device ;  rules,  ease  and  perfection  in  execution. 
Principles  belong  to  science ;  rules,  to  art.  Invention 
is  dependent  on  both  —  on  a  knowledge  of  the  condi- 
tions under  which  natural  forces  act,  and  on  that  inge- 
nuity and  manipular  skill  by  which  those  conditions  are 
met,  and  power  is  successfully  applied  to  the  production 
of  a  given  result.  There  may  be  much  good  work 
within  an  art  with  little  mastery  of  its  principles ;  there 
can  be  no  thorough  knowledge  of  an  art,  or  great  power 
to  develop  its  resources,  without  tracing  its  rules  to  the 
laws  on  which  they  depend. 

Every  art  stands  in  intimate  relations  with  one  or 
more  sciences,  that  furnish  the  principles  which  govern 
and  explain  its  operations.  Every  combination  of 
machinery  is  to  be  understood  by  the  mechanical  powers 
employed  —  the  measurements  of  carpentry  by  the  solu- 
tions of  geometry  which  they  involve ;  the  enjoyments 
of  poetry  and  oratory  by  the  laws  of  the  human  mind 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

under  which  they  arise.  A  single  science,  like  that  of 
chemistry,  may  render  its  aid  to  many  arts,  and  a  single 
art,  like  that  of  agriculture,  may  receive  assistance  from 
the  most  various  forms  of  knowledge.  Thought  and 
action  are  inextricably  interwoven,  and  sustain  each 
other  at  a  thousand  points. 

The  philosophy  of  an  art  is  the  reference  of  its  rules 
to  their  appropriate  principles.  The  mind  is  never  sat- 
isfied till  all  its  action  becomes  rational ;  that  is,  till  it 
has  explained  to  itself  the  reasons  on  which  it  rests. 
The  mind  thus  assumes  that  supervision  and  govern- 
ment which  belong  to  it.  Art  is  made  amenable  to 
science,  and  science  tests  its  power  by  expounding  and 
guiding  art. 

Rhetoric  is  an  art.  It  strives  to  render  aid  to  action, 
to  prescribe  its  methods.  What  is  the  action  whose 
rules  are  furnished  by  rhetoric?  It  is  the  mind's  action, 
we  answer,  in  communicating  itself,  its  thoughts,  con- 
ceptions, feelings,  through  language.  There  has  been 
a  general  tendency  to  limit  rhetoric  to  direct  address  — 
oratory,  so  called.  We  cannot  regard  this  as  desirable, 
since,  in  that  case,  we  must  have  an  additional  art  to 
guide  the  mind  in  other  forms  of  composition — an  art, 
the  body  of  whose  precepts  must  be  identical  with  those 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

already  given  in  rhetoric.  Expression  of  thought  in 
language  in  all  its  varieties  is  but  one  department, 
governed  by  the  same  fundamental  principles.  The 
differences  between  the  several  forms  of  composition  are 
those  of  species,  rather  than  those  of  genera,  giving  rise 
to  a  varied  adaptation  of  rules  to  something  diverse, 
but  not  radically  new,  in  methods  or  in  ends. 

We  define  rhetoric  as  the  art  which  teaches  the  rules 
of  composition.  By  composition  we  understand  the 
expression  in  language  of  thoughts,  emotions,  for  some 
definite  end. 

There  are  various  arts  and  sciences  subsidiary  to 
rhetoric.  Grammar  gives  us  the  rules  by  which  the 
words  of  a  language  are  united  in  a  correct  construc- 
tion. Logic  tests  the  validity  of  the  arguments  em- 
ployed in  address,  and  defines  the  form  of  sound 
judgments.  Elocution  governs  the  delivery  of  dis- 
course, and  enhances  the  impression  secured  by 
rhetoric. 

The  philosophy  of  rhetoric  is  the  reference  of  its  rules 
to  the  principles  of  mental  and  moral  science  on  which 
they  are  dependent.  Mind  expresses  itself  according  to 
its  own  laws,  toward  its  own  ends.  When  affected 
from  abroad,  it  is  by  the  influence  of  mind  —  of  those 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

for  whom  the  composition  is  prepared.  Whether  com- 
position is  sought  as  a  means  of  expression  or  of  per- 
suasion, its  end  is  reached  in  mind,  and  mind  gives  the 
governing  principles. 

The  first  step  toward  rhetoric  is,  as  in  other  arts, 
practical  —  the  use  of  language  in  communicating 
thought.  Not  till  some  literature  has  arisen  under  the 
art,  can  the  art  itself  separately  arise.  Composition 
must  be  the  object  of  criticism  and  correction.  Men 
will  seek  guidance  and  skill  only  in  that  about  which 
they  are  employed.  The  necessity  of  rules  will  not  be 
felt,  nor  will  that  be  present  from  which  they  may,  by 
experience  and  observation,  be  drawn,  till  literature  has 
accumulated  the  material  of  criticism. 

The  second  step  toward  rhetoric  will  be  one  of  sep- 
aration and  classification,  by  which  the  several  forms  of 
language  and  parts  of  composition  are  distinguished, 
the  one  from  the  other ;  the  figurative  from  the  literal, 
the  argumentative  from  the  emotional.  This  analysis 
will  give  the  terminology  of  the  art,  expressing  the 
distinct  features  and  forms  of  utterance  which  appear 
in  the  complex  whole  —  composition. 

Different  methods  and  separable  parts  are  now  open  to 
observation ;  their  several  effects  become  traceable ;  and 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

the  results  of  composition,  favorable  or  unfavorable,  are 
referred  to  this  and  that  manner  of  presentation.  The 
mind  thus  takes  the  third  step — the  formation  of  rules 
which  treasure  up  and  make  most  available  the  knowl- 
edge derived  from  experience.  At  this  point,  rhetoric 
as  an  art  appears.  It  states  and  combines  the  rules 
which  literature  in  its  progress  has  developed.  The 
second  and  third  steps  alone  strictly  give  an  art;  the 
first  is  merely  conditional  for  them. 

If  rhetoric  arises  in  the  manner  now  pointed  out,  we 
see  how  erroneous  is  the  idea  that  rules,  when  correctly 
applied,  can  hamper  genius,  or  take  away  any  just 
liberty.  These  rules  are  a  concise  general  expression 
of  the  manner  in  which  it  has  been  found  that 
past  successes  have  been  achieved.  They  have  been 
arrived  at  by  the  study  of  the  works  of  genius.  Just 
rules  are  natural,  not  artificial.  Nature,  powerful  na- 
ture, genius,  achieves  success  through  its  own  spon- 
taneous apprehension  of  law.  The  method  of  this  ac- 
tion—  in  the  highest  degree  natural,  since  it  is  that 
of  vigorous  nature  —  now  becomes  a  subject  of  in- 
quiry, and  is  expressed  in  a  precept.  This  precept, 
within  its  own  limits,  if  rightly  established,  genius 
cannot  henceforward  reject,  since  therein  is  defined  the 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

manner  of  its  own  efforts.  Nor  can  Nature  reject  it, 
since  she  alone  has  established  it.  Rules  exist  latently 
in  all  the  powerful,  successful  movements  of  mind. 
Genius  shows  itself  to  be  genius  by  the  certainty  and 
celerity  with  which  it  reaches  and  acts  upon  great  prin- 
ciples ;  by  the  precision  and  perfection  with  which  it 
expresses  the  natural  force  that  is  in  it. 

Rules,  precepts,  arise  from  the  desire  to  make  our 
best  efforts  the  guides  of  our  future  exertions  ;  to  render 
the  path  opened  by  genius  accessible  to  industry;  to 
shed  the  light  of  inspired  men  and  inspired  moments 
over  ordinary  men  and  ordinary  moments.  It  is  equally 
false  to  affirm  the  complete  success  and  the  complete 
failure  of  such  efforts.  Native  power  is  indispensable ; 
acquired  power  is  indisputable.  The  law  which  the 
first  has  established,  the  second  may  adopt,  and  in  its 
adoption  develop  rapidly  and  to  the  utmost  its  resources. 
A  life  which  is  not  vigorous  enough  to  force  growth 
against  obstacles,  may  yet  be  nourished  into  healthful 
activity.  An  intellect  which  cannot  strike  out  the  best 
method,  can  yet  naturally  and  successfully  pursue  it. 
Experience  is  a  teacher,  and  her  precepts,  when  rightly 
apprehended  and  adopted,  become  a  truer  nature  than 
awkward,  unkindly  growth  they  displace. 

B 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  everything  that  has 
arisen  without  design  is  natural  in  any  just  use  of  the 
word,  or  that  what  arises  from  effort  and  discipline  is 
artificial.  The  pugilist  that  strikes  by  a  right  rule, 
rightly  applied,  strikes  most  efficaciously,  and  most 
efficaciously  because  most  naturally.  This  naturalness, 
perchance,  does  not  spring  from  his  own  nature,  but 
belongs  to  the  best  physical  formation  in  the  highest 
execution  of  its  power.  What  is  most  perfect  in  any 
form  of  life  or  action  is  most  natural,  most  nearly  the 
fulness  of  natural  law ;  that  which  is  least  perfect  is 
least  natural.  All  awkwardness,  error,  and  imbecility  are 
unnatural,  however  universal  they  may  have  become. 

There  are  two  things  requisite  for  the  success  of 
rules  that  aim  to  give  polished  power  to  action.  They 
must  spring  from  nature ;  they  must  be  incorporated 
into  nature.  While  they  must  hit  upon  the  natural,  the 
right  method,  he  who  uses  them  must  be  so  familiar 
with  them,  that  his  own  native  forces  can  find  habitual, 
spontaneous  expression  under  them.  Art  is,  indeed, 
no  substitute  for  force,  thought,  life  ;  but  it  can  develop 
native  and  acquired  powers  into  a  strength  and  sym- 
metry of  form  not  otherwise  attainable.  A  true  rule, 
springing  from  the  most  perfect  expression  of  the  most 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

perfect  nature,  must  be  incorporated  into  the  mind, 
must  become  a  part  of  it,  unconsciously  guiding  its  ac- 
tion :  must  be  ingrafted  upon  it  as  a  higher  and  better 
nature  than  its  own. 

All  just  disparagement  of  art  has  arisen  from  its  be- 
coming artificial ;  that  is,  from  its  separation  as  a  dead 
form  from  the  life  which  it  was  designed  to  express. 
No  perfection  of  form  that  is  vitalized  by  adequate, 
energies  can  be  amiss.  Ehetoric  shapes  what  science  in 
all  its  departments  has  furnished.  It  cannot  go  beyond 
its  material ;  it  is  enough  if  it  make  the  most  of  this 
material.  Art  comes  in  for  the  guidance  of  power,  and 
can  do  little  till  this,  the  condition  of  its  action,  is  fur- 
nished. Fine  art  always  implies  a  culture  radical  and 
broad,  of  which  it  is  the  expression,  and  in  fault  of  this 
can  be  but  the  merest  surface  work. 

This  third  step  being  taken,  by  which  rhetoric  is 
reached  as  a  system  of  rules,  there  remains  a  fourth  — 
the  explanation  of  these  rules  through  the  principles  on 
which  they  depend.  This  is  properly  the  philosophy  of 
rhetoric.  Rules,  especially  those  which  govern  the 
mind's  action,  are  more  easily  and  freely  obeyed  when 
then*  true  force  is  seen.  We  shall  strive,  therefore,  to 
ground  our  art  in  nature  by  referring  all  its  precepts  to 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

the  principles  which  give  them  validity.  We  shall  thus 
not  only  know  what  we  are  to  do,  but  why  we  are  to  do 
it ;  have  a  reason  rendered  from  nature  as  well  as  from 
experience;  and  enlarge  and  strengthen  our  practical 
results  by  our  theoretical  conclusions.  We  shall  present 
the  art  in  three  parts  —  its  ends,  its  means,  its  methods ; 
thus  answering  the  three  questions,  What  do  we  pursue? 
By  what  means?  In  what  manner? 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 


BOOK 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEPARTMENTS  OF  COMPOSITION. 

No  composition  is  aimless,  not  even  soliloquy.  If  it 
were  aimless,  there  could  be  no  criticism,  no  excellence, 
no  rules  guiding  its  structure,  since  these  imply  that  some 
end  is  to  be  reached,  some  right  method  to  be  employed. 
Composition,  in  all  the  forms  in  which  it  adds  itself 
either  to  the  labor  or  literature  of  the  world,  pursues 
some  appreciable  end,  and  thus  lays  itself  open  to  criti- 
cism as  right  or  wrong  in  its  object,  right  or  wrong  in 
its  method.  So  obvious  is  this,  that  we  need  not  dwell 
upon  it.  Any  composition  absolutely  without  an  end 
must  be  without  connection,  without  meaning.  There 
is  some  method  even  in  madness. 

The  three  leading  ends  of  composition  are  defined  by 
the  three  divisions  of  man's  intellectual  powers  —  under- 

(21) 


22  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

standing,  emotions,  and  will.  Truth  to  be  adduced  and 
established,  or  to  be  conveyed,  feeling  to  be  uttered,  the 
purposes  of  men  to  be  shaped,  are  each  the  objects  of 
literary  effort.  Address,  using  the  term  broadly,  may 
find  its  object  in  the  understanding,  in  the  emotions, 
or  in  the  will.  The  philosophical  essay  does  its  chief 
work  in  the  intellect.  Its  connections  are  logical,  its 
conclusions  those  of  the  understanding.  The  poem 
springs  from  the  emotions,  and  acts  upon  the  emotions. 
Its  excellency  is  tested  by  the  character  and  scope  of 
the  emotions  which  it  arouses.  It  has  reached  its  end 
when  men  are  moved  to  a  just  appreciation  of  its.beauty 
and  sentiment.  The  oration,  when  clothed  in  power, 
when  possessed  of  its  true  generic  character,  moves  men 
to  action  ;  is  satisfied  with  no  conclusions,  is  content 
with  no  feelings,  which  do  not  result  in  the  desired 
effect.  Oratory  seeks  to  sweep  through  the  whole  man, 
to  bind  him  to  a  purpose,  and  press  him  on  in  a  career. 

Language  is  so  governed  by  the  form  of  composition, 
and  has  so  little  reference  to  its  intrinsic  character,  that 
any  production  may  be  termed  poetry  which  bears  its  ex- 
ternal mark  of  metre.  All  productions  destitute  of  this 
are  hurriedly  grouped  as  prose  ;  while  every  composition 
which  chances  to  be  spoken  is  indifferently  styled  an 
oration.  A  more  philosophical  classification,  if  not  a 
more  convenient  one,  would  distinguish  prose,  poetry, 


DEPARTMENTS   OP   COMPOSITION.  23 

and  oratory  according  to  their  subject  matter,  whether 
addressed  to  the  thoughts,  emotions,  or  will  of  man. 
With  present  divisions,  we  have  much  under  the  poetical 
garb  which  is  not  poetry  ;  much  spoken  which  does  not 
belong,  to  oratory ;  much  in  a  prose  form  which  is  im- 
pregnate with  a  true  poetical  fire.  We  do  not  insist 
on  the  divisions  now  made.  They  serve  a  profitable 
end  in  thought,  if  not  always  regarded  in  language. 

There  are  three  departments  of  composition  strikingly 
distinct  in  their  typical  forms ;  and  though,  as  in 
almost  all  vital  products,  the  shore-marks  of  division 
may  neither  be  always  straight  nor  well  defined,  the  mind 
is  greatly  aided  in  its  grasp  of  things  by  a  recognition 
of  those  outstanding  features,  those  prominent  peaks 
from  which  the  sloping  sides,  ultimately  meeting  on 
common  ground,  take  their  departure.  Prose,  the 
province  of  the  understanding ;  poetry,  of  passion  ;  ora- 
tory, of  the  whole  man  gathered  and  uttered  in  volition, 
—  become,  in  view  of  the  effect  sought,  the  three  great 
forms  of  composition,  each  possessed  of  fundamental 
characteristics. 

The  logical  order  of  address,  in  its  transition  through 
the  understanding,  the  emotions,  and  the  will,  is  that  in 
which  they  are  here  placed.  Emotion  is  conditioned  on 
apprehension,  volition  on  emotion.  We  first  see,  then 
feel,  and  afterward  act.  The  passions,  aside  from  the 


24  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

grosser  appetites,  are  not  accessible  save  through  the 
intellect,  nor  the  will  save  through  the  passions.  In 
the  passions,  emotions,  we  here  include  the  moral  sen- 
timents. There  is  no  direct  address  to  the  sensibilities 
or  to  the  will.  I  can  exhort  a  man  to  think  at  once  on 
the  topic  offered,  but  not,  with  propriety,  to  feel  or  will 
concerning  it.  Emotion  and  volitipn  must  depend  for 
their  character  on  the  nature  and  relations  of  the 
topic,  and  these  must  be  presented  as  the  indispensable 
condition  of  feeling  and  action.  Presentation  is  first  in 
order  and  is  directed  to  the  intellect ;  emotion  follows 
the  presence  of  the  appropriate  object ;  and  volition  is 
subsequent  to  both  presentation  and  emotion. 

A  pure  address  to  the  understanding,  however,  is 
very  different  from  one  which  passes  like  light  through 
the  lens  of  thought,  only  to  be  lodged  with  its  warmth 
in  the  emotions.  The  one  presents  truth  for  its  own 
sake ;  the  other,  for  the  feelings  which  it  is  fitted  to 
arouse.  In  the  one  case,  the  topic  and  treatment  are 
chosen  in  reference  to  the  elucidation  of  truth ;  in  the 
other,  in  reference  to  their  power  over  the  emotions. 
For  the  one  purpose,  they  are  thoughtful ;  for  the  other 
passionate  and  poetical. 

A  kindred  diversity  exists  between  those  forms  of  ad- 
dress which  terminate  respectively  in  the  passions  and 
will.  Some  feelings  leave  the  mind  wrapped  in  emo- 


DEPARTMENTS   OF   COMPOSITION.  25 

tion  —  lost  in  the  beauty,  pathos,  or  grandeur  of  the 
accompanying  conception.  Others  hurry  it  on  to  action  ; 
the  theme  fills  the  mind  with  indignation  or  with 
desire,  and  thus  drives  it  along  the  path  of  gratification. 
It  is  these  different  relations  of  emotions  to  the  mind 
itself,  and  its  active  powers,  which  determine  the  result, 
and  leave  the  theme,  now  lodged  in  the  affections  of  the 
man,  and  now,  as  passing  words  of  exhortation,  lost  in 
his  life. 

Though  the  logical  relation  of  man's  faculties  is  that 
now  pointed  out,  their  order  in  individual  and  historical 
development  is  somewhat  different.  The  emotional 
nature  is  earlier  aroused  than  the  intellectual,  and  hence 
poetry,  its  natural  expression,  precedes  prose.  The 
passions,  quickening  and  quickened  by  the  imagination, 
incite  physical  effort,  make  life  adventurous,  anticipate 
the  judgment,  outstrip  systematic  thought,  and,  with 
no  more  of  the  intellectual  element  than  is  involved  in 
the  presentation  of  appropriate  objects,  inflame  the  mind 
with  heroic  verse. 

The  emotions,  though,  indeed,  reached  through  the 
understanding,  are  roughly  and  strongly  shaken  before 
any  clear  light  is  shed  through  the  mind,  or  any  strong 
pleasure  experienced  in  its  more  refined  action.  Many 
are  ready  to  insist,  that  the  passions  in  the  outset  move 
us  only  the  more  strongly  from  the  murky  intellectual 
2 


2  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

medium  in  which  their  subjects  are  presented,  and  the 
great  predominance  of  sensible  over  intelligible  objects. 
We  would  rather  say,  that  in  its  early  periods  emotion 
is  more  rude  and  demonstrative,  not  more  strong,  than 
in  its  later  periods. 

Orator}7-,  especially  in  its  first  forms,  is  more  closely 
allied  to  the  emotions  than  the  thoughts,  and  hence  has 
followed  quickly  upon  poetry.  It  seeks  also  a  practical 
end,  —  an  immediate  influence  to  be  exerted  on  human 
action, — and  has,  therefore,  an  advantage  over  the  more 
remote  and  abstract  aims  of  thought. 

A  thorough  and  logical  development  of  the  intellect, 
a  search  after  truth  and  satisfaction  in  it,  are  among 
the  later  steps  of  mental  progress  ;  yet  these,  once  taken, 
react  strongly  on  poetry  and  oratory,  and  impart  to 
them  a  new  character.  While  the  movement  of  mind, 
though  substantial,  is  yet  crude  and  incomplete,  it  may 
tend  to  render  both  poetry  and  oratory  somewhat  formal 
and  barren,  to  restrict  them  to  its  own  didactic  method ; 
but  when  culture  becomes  deep,  rich,  and  productive, 
its  emotional  products  will  be  more  profoundly  passion- 
ate than  those  of  any  previous  period ;  more  just  and 
symmetrical,  they  will  also  be  thoroughly  vital.  Not 
till  the  mind  has  worked  its  way  through  the  periods 
of  scepticism  and  destruction  into  those  of  belief  and 
construction,  out  from  uncertainty  and  doubt  into  hearty 


DEPARTMENTS   OF   COMPOSITION.  27 

faith  and  advocacy,  will  the  emotions  claim  and  fulfil 
their  highest  part  in  the  progress  of  man.  The  stream 
of  human  life  does  not  run  shallow  as  we  advance. 
The  most  profoundly  emotional  truths  committed  to  the 
mind,  like  morning  stars,  appear  late  above  its  horizon. 
In  the  fullest  discipline  of  the  human  mind,  therefore, 
we  seem  to  return  to  the  order  first  presented,  in  which 
a  delicately,  broadly,  profoundly  apprehensive  intellect 
stands  at  the  threshold  of  human  faculties. 


28  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 


CHAPTER    II. 

PROSE. 

PROSE,  as  distinguished  both  from  poetry  and  ora- 
tory, arises  in  the  service  of  the  understanding ;  it  is 
the  storehouse  of  knowledge,  of  the  processes  and 
results  of  thought.  It  has  the  double  office  of  estab- 
lishing and  imparting  truth.  In  the  one  case,  convic- 
tion is  secured;  in  the  other,  information  is  imparted. 
The  one  process  opposes  itself  to  error,  the  other  to 
ignorance.  Argument  is  the  means  employed  by  the 
first,  statement  by  the  Second. 

These  distinctions,  often  just,  seem  lost  again  in  the 
fullest  form  of  proof.  Indisputable  scientific  proposi- 
tions are  stated  in  themselves,  and  in  their  proof,  as 
things  of  knowledge,  not  of  controversy.  Argument 
differs  from  proof  in  implying  unbelief  to  be  combated, 
a  proposition  to  be  established  against  the  tacit  or 
avowed  opposition  of  certain  persons.  Proof  is  ar- 
ranged with  sole  reference  to  interior  logical  connec- 
tions, while  argument  contemplates  these  in  connection 


PROSE.  29 

with  that  phase  of  belief  it  would  controvert,  and  the 
persons  it  would  convince. 

The  chief  connections  of  facts,  as  simple  unexplained 
facts,  are  those  of  place  and  time.  The  rendering  of 
them,  under  the  first  of  these  relations,  is  description; 
under  the  second,  is  narrative.  History  rests  chiefly  on 
the  last.  While  prose  describes  and  narrates  princi- 
pally for  the  facts  themselves,  it  justly  strives  to  render 
them  in  their  real,  their  living  force,  though  at  this 
point  the  emotional  elements  of  poetry  indirectly  enter. 

The  connections  of  things  as  grouped  and  explained 
by  the  mind  are  resemblance  and  cause  and  effect. 
These  two  are  the  scientific  links  of  thought,  and  are 
chiefly  employed  in  philosophical  prose.  Objects  are 
treated  according  to  their  inherent  and  permanent  agree- 
ments, or  their  causal  dependence  one  on  another ;  and 
these  substantial  connections  of  things  become  the  for- 
mal connections  of  thought.  Science  and  philosophy 
rest  on  these  relations,  and  here  prose  is  severely  true 
to  itself. 

There  is  a  connection,  an  involution  of  ideas,  inde- 
pendent of  things,  by  which  the  one  contains  or  includes 
the  other.  This  gives  play  to  deduction,  which  is  in 
each  step  demonstrative.  Interior,  logical  connections 
only  are  considered,  and  by  these  are  successively  unfolded 
the  minor  truths  of  some  pregnant  major  premise.  Thus 


30  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

from  a  few  simple  notions  are  evolved  the  many  propo- 
sitions of  geometry.  Here,  most  of  all,  is  prose  simply 
true  to  the  relations  of  thought. 

The  form  of  prose  composition  which  is  most  anoma- 
lous, unless  it  be  the  degenerate  prose  drama,  is  the 
novel.  The  novel  is  in  its  aim  poetical.  It  has  chiefly 
to  do  with  emotion,  and  especially  with  that  of  love. 
It  presents  life  on  the  side  of  its  affections  and  passions, 
and  makes  information  and  influence  subordinate  to  this 
end.  The  moral  aim  or  effect  of  the  composition  is 
involved  in  the  narrative,  not  evolved  from  it,  or 
enforced  or  illustrated  by  it.  A  segment  of  life,  just  or 
fanciful,  is  presented,  and  the  reader  is  left  to  the  natu- 
ral effect  of  the  principles  of  morality  contained  in  it. 
The  tale  may  show  its  prose  character  by  relaxing  into 
discussion  and  criticism,  but  these  are  aside  from  its 
proper  office.  The  early  romances  were  chiefly,  almost 
exclusively,  metrical,  and  the  modern  novel  seems  to  be 
a  prose  poem  —  a  transitional  form  between  depart- 
ments in  their  typical  products  quite  distinct. 

In  prose  the  form  of  the  expression  is  shaped  exclu- 
sively by  the  exigencies  of  the  thought,  and  admits  of 
as  much  variety,  and  as  many  modifications,  as  this  will 
suffer.  In  poetry  and  oratory,  impression  being  pre- 
eminent, a  variety  of  things  may  enter  into  the  product, 
may  concur  with  and  enhance  its  impression  on  the  emo- 


PllOSE.  31 

tions.  In  prose,  the  mind  alone  being  addressed,  any 
adjunct  of  metre,  anything  granted  to  the  form  merely, 
serves  to  distract  the  attention  and  weaken  the  thought. 
A  measured  flow  of  syllables  thus  becomes  in  prose 
a  blemish.  The  harmony  of  alliteration,  when  em- 
ployed, must  indicate  a  kindred  harmony  of  ideas,  and 
arise  as  an  undesigned  coincidence.  An  antithesis  of 
words  is  only  justified  by  an  antithesis  of  the  thought. 
The  emotions  are  influenced  by  harmony,  by  concur- 
rence of  impressions.  The  intellect  seeks  distinction, 
division,  single  and  explicit  statement.  Therefore 
thought,  as  thought,  accepts  no  method  which  would  be 
to  it  a  source  either  of  constraint  or  distraction.  The 
rule  softens  as  the  aim  of  prose  becomes  more  inclusive, 
adding  pleasure  to  instruction. 


32  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 


CHAPTER    HI. 

POETRY. 

CONTRARY  to  the  usual  method,  we  shall  treat  rhet- 
oric as  inclusive  of  all  forms  of  composition ;  since  no 
one  form  can  be  understood  without  apprehending  its 
relations  to  the  remaining  forms ;  since  each  mode  rests 
on  essentially  the  same  principles,  and  employs  the  same 
means,  modified  by  the  particular  end  proposed ;  since 
the  three  departments  of  expression  are  complementary 
divisions  under  one  general  movement,  the  communica- 
tion of  mind  with  mind  through  language. 

Poetry  arises  from  the  interchange  of  emotion,  emo- 
tion expressed  for  its  own  sake,  with  no  ulterior  refer- 
ence to  action.  Feeling  is  aroused  and  nourished  in 
man  by  the  things  and  movements  about  him.  Beauty, 
objects  of  hope  and  apprehension,  of  affection  and  aver- 
sion, reward  and  retribution,  stir  powerfully  the  human 
soul,  and  force  its  emotions  into  language.  The  mind 
is  first  and  chiefly  moved  through  sensible  objects,  and 
under  their  forms  continues  to  present  its  feelings.  The 
imagery  of  the  imagination  gathers  in  its  procession 


POETRY  33 

things  sublime  and  terrible,  beautiful  and  joyful,  homely 
and  mirthful,  and  the  heart  is  by  turns  awed  with  a  sol- 
emn pageant,  saddened  with  a  dark  retinue,  cheered 
with  a  sportive  troop,  or  made  merry  with  a  mock 
carnival. 

The  emotions,  ever  varying  in  character  and  depth, 
are  prone  to  utterance,  to  seek  the  sympathy,  the  reali- 
zation, and  extension  of  language,  and  hence  have  given 
rise  to  this  most  adequate  and  full  medium  of  expression 
—  poetry.  Poetry,  in  its  perfect  type,  its  strictly  charac- 
teristic form /is  emotional  conception  expressed  in  met- 
rical language.)  The  substance  and  life  of  poetry  is 
feeling;  its  peculiar  and  appropriate  form  is  rhythm. 
The  latter  affords  the  more  convenient,  but  not  the  more 
important  distinction.  Poetry  properly  demands  them 
both. 

There  is  no  limit  but  that  of  the  emotions  to  the  sub- 
ject matter  of  poetry,  and  no  restrictions  on  its  metrical 
forms  but  the  possibilities  of  language.  The  more 
extended  and  weighty  the  feeling,  the  less  it  will  cumber 
itself  with  the  demands  of  form.  This  is  seen  in  the 
themes  appropriate  to  blank  verse,  and  in  the  constant 
tendency  of  humor  and  satire  to  rhyme.  The  more  brief 
and  isolated  the  emotion,  the  more  intricate  and  care- 
fully wrought  out  the  measure.  The  stones  of  which 
a  temple  is  reared  are  individually  treated  slightly 


34  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

The  stone  of  which  a  brooch  is  made  is  wrought  into 
some  rare  and  exquisite  form.  An  intricate  and  perfect 
rhythm,  if  long  continued,  wearies  more  than  plainer 
verse.  There  is  a  fitness  between  emotion  and  metrical 
language  which  makes  the  latter  the  almost  necessary 
vehicle  of  the  former.  To  repeat  a  song  is  not  to  ren- 
der it ;  to  state  an  emotion,  or  speak  of  its  object,  is  not 
to  express  it.  The  passions  of  men  have  always  sought, 
as  their  most  copious  utterance,  song,  —  poetry  united 
to  music,  —  and  will  not  readily  part,  on  any  plea,  with 
the  remnant  of » this  association  —  metre.  Music  and 
metre  are  as  much  the  elocution  of  poetry  as  emphasis 
and  gesture  of  oratory.  As  emotion  is  the  great  modu- 
lator of  the  voice,  by  inversion  sound  becomes  a  chief 
medium  of  emotion  ;  and  passionate  composition — poetry 
•  —  looks  to  it  for  aid.  Feeling  is  often  contained  more  in 
the  tone  than  in  the  word,  and  can  never  divorce  itself 
from  this,  its  most  natural  expression,  nor  stand  in  the 
same  undefined  relation  to  it  as  prose.  Poetry  searches 
for  all  the  avenues  of  emotion,  arouses  the  senses,  and 
in  its  flow  of  sounds  soothes,  saddens,  or  quickens  the 
soul.  This  vocal  form  is  the  natural  outgrowth  of 
feeling. 

Poetry  receives  character  and  value  from  the  nature 
of  the  emotions  which  gave  rise  to  it,  and  which  it  is 
fitted  to  impart.  The  more  common  divisions  of  poetry 


PGETR*.  35 

have  little  reference  one  to  another,  and  rest  their  dis- 
tinctions now  on  subject  matter,  now  on  form.  Epic 
and  drama,  ode  and  sonnet,  furnish  convenient  designa- 
tions for  ordinary  speech,  but  do  not  spring  from  any 
systematic  apprehension  of  the  subjects  of  poetry ;  nor 
do  they,  save  in  single  features,  define  its  field.  We 
need  to  see  the  cardinal  divisions  of  the  emotions,  that 
we  may  therein  find  the  offices  and  relations  of  poetry. 
The  most  profound  impulses,  as  well  as  the  most  simple 
and  sensible  pleasures  of  the  soul,  are  realized  in  verse. 
The  oration  is  a  weapon  carefully  shaped  for  an  imme- 
diate and  explicit  purpose ;  the  poem  is  a  germ  contain- 
ing within  itself,  and  for  itself,  the  full-balanced  forces 
of  one  form  of  emotional  life  —  a  life  with  which  dis- 
semination is  an  inward  necessity.  Poetry,  occupied 
with  conceptions  which  arise  under  feeling,  and  are  by  it 
perfected  into  beauty,  becomes  a  fine  art,  and  belongs  by 
generic  features  to  rhetoric,  by  individual  characteristics 
to  aesthetics. 


36  PHILOSOPHY  OP  BHETORIC. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ORATORY. 

ORATORY  differs  from  the  forms  of  composition  al- 
ready mentioned  in  its  end,  and  consequently  in  its 
relations  and  means.  Oratory  proposes  an  immediate 
effect  —  in  some  way  to  guide  or  govern  action.  As 
that  mental  state  which  results  in  action  is  completed  in 
volition,  oratory  aims  to  affect  the  will.  Thought  is 
not  elaborated  for  its  own  sake,  nor  emotion  aroused  for 
itself,  but  only  to  be  immediately  employed  in  persua- 
sion—  in  deciding  the  state  of  the  will. 

The  means  and  method  appropriate  are  determined  by 
this  practical  end  of  immediate  influence,  and  all  that 
is  merely  philosophical  or  poetical,  occupying  without 
constraining  the  mind,  becomes  inefficacious  and  wrong. 
Thoughts  and  emotions  are  considered  only  in  their 
bearings  on  the  proposed  action,  and  are  made,  with 
light  and  heat,  to  converge  at  this  point  as  a  perfect 
focus.  The  mind  must  be  convinced,  but  convinced  of 
the  value  and  practicability  of  the  action  proposed ;  the 
heart  must  be  aroused,  but  aroused  to  the  motives  of 


ORATORY.  37 

duty,  profit,  and  pleasure  which  press  upon  it.  By  true 
oratory  the  whole  soul  is  thrown  into  a  single  current, 
setting  outward  toward  effort, — this  effort  becoming 
more  protracted  and  thorough  in  proportion  to  the  deep 
and  inclusive  character  of  the  desired  end.  The  highest 
oratory  can  only  be  called  forth  when  the  energies  of 
the  whole  nature,  with  its  fundamental  forces,  moral 
and  religious,  are  to  be  aroused,  and  to  be  determined 
in  the  permanent  direction  of  holy  living. 

As  a  further  result  of  this  outward  end,  oratory  is 
thrown  into  relations  wholly  diverse  from  those  of 
poetry  and  philosophy.  The  philosopher,  the  poet,  are 
abstracted,  the  one  by  his  thought,  the  other  by  his 
conception,  from  all  other  objects.  Everything  aside 
from  the  one  thing  in  hand  is  foreign,  is  alien,  to  the 
idea,  and  to  the  mind  occupied  with  it.  The  thought  is 
governed  by  its  own  logical  relations,  the  emotion  arises 
with  its  own  sympathetic  connections,  and  therefore  the 
work  of  composition  proceeds  by  separation — by  render- 
ing an  individual  tiung  in  its  individual  way.  The 
success  of  the  labor  is  dependent  on  this  interior  de- 
velopment of  the  thing  treated.  The  orator,  on  the 
other  hand,  considers  not  more  the  intrinsic  power  of 
the  theme  than  its  relations  to  those  whose  action  he 
purposes  to  influence  by  it.  The  last  is  with  him  the 
controlling  consideration.  The  truth,  like  iron,  must  be 


,  * 

* 


38  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

shaped  into  an  instrument  wherewith  to  accomplish  most 
perfectly  and  quickly  a  given  work.  It  is  with  him  as 
with  the  agriculturist,  whose  task  is  assigned  under 
given  conditions  of  soil  and  climate ;  not  to  subject  all 
his  efforts  to  these  is  immediate  and  utter  failure.  The 
oration  grows  up  under  a  vital  power  not  less  than  the 
poem ;  but  in  the  last  we  mark  the  native  force  and 
fulness  of  a  life  freely  developed,  like  a  plant  in  an 
open  and  rich  field ;  in  the  first  we  note  how  this  and 
that  favoring  and  unfavoring  circumstance  have  modified 
the  tree,  pushing  its  way  with  persistent  power  among 
its  fellows,  and  gathering  nutriment,  sunlight,  and  air 
as  it  was  able.  The  oration  is  the  complex  product  of 
exterior  and  interior  force,  not  the  peaceful  product  of 
the  last  only.  That  which  here  rules  the  form,  which 
defines  and  explains  it,  is  the  exigency  of  the  circum- 
stances under  which  it  has  arisen.  A  given  audience, 
through  whom  a  given  end  is  to  be  reached,  is  the  ever- 
present  and  controlling  thought  of  the  orator.  He  may 
not  withdraw  into  speculation,  or  at  the  beck  of  imagi- 
nation turn  aside  to  the  retreats  of  beauty.  He  has  no 
privacy,  but  is  ever  haunted  by  that  sea  of  faces,  whose 
surface  is  the  condensed  utterance  of  many  human 
hearts.  His  is  no  single  conflict ;  a  host  is  to  be 
met,  and  with  no  other  weapon  than  that  of  his  theme  : 
in  the  same  instant  and  by  the  same  action,  he  is  to 


ORATORY.  39 

reach  and  vanquish  each  individual,  intrenched  as  he 
may  be  in  dulness  and  inanity,  intrenched  as  he  may  be 
in  prejudice  and  passion.  The  relations,  therefore,  of 
the  orator  to  the  audience  and  the  theme  become  vital 
considerations. 

A  poem  is  the  metrical  utterance  of  emotion ;  philo- 
sophical prose,  a  logical  statement  of  thought ;  while 
oratory  is  just  and  impassioned  persuasion,  the  legitimate 
influencing  of  the  will  through  both  the  understanding 
and  the  feelings.  If  either  of  these  elements  is  want- 
ing, if  the  passion  is  irrational,  or  the  reason  unimpas- 
sioned,  there  is  no  eloquence. 

The  leading  divisions  of  oratory  arise  from  diversity 
of  ends.  The  orator  seeks  to  secure  action  under  cer- 
tain principles  of  human  conduct.  He  does  not  origi- 
nate impulses,  but  shows  the  relation  of  lines  of  effort 
to  the  native  impulses  of  the  mind.  The  person  per- 
suaded is  impelled  by  his  own  desires,  the  speaker  pre- 
senting the  object  and  opening  up  the  way  through  which 
these  are  to  be  gratified.  The  oration  will  receive  its 
character  from  the  character  of  the  constitutional  force 
of  which  it  avails  itself  in  securing  effort,  from  the  idea 
to  which  it  addresses  and  unites  its  argument. 

The  chief  original  impulses  which  supply  the  im- 
pelling power  in  human  action,  are  right,  interest,  and 
pleasure.  The  first  of  these  is  wholly  peculiar ;  the  last 


40  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

two  are  more  closely  related.  The  sense  of  right  is  in 
all  men  simple  and  original,  and  enters  into  the  compe- 
tition of  motives  with  its  own  native  force.  With  self- 
affirmed  and  incontrovertible  authority,  it  claims  to 
restrain,  quicken,  and  guide  all  action.  It  is,  in  the 
order  of  man's  constitution,  the  only  independent,  always 
just,  always  present  impulse,  and  therefore  it  alone  can 
rightly  order  the  whole  field  of  action,  and  give  that 
vigor  and  that  proportion  of  parts  which  are  just. 

The  emotions  which  directly  sustain  and  enforce  the 
right  are  an  antecedent  sense  of  obligation,  and,  subse- 
quent to  the  action,  the  feelings  of  approval,  or  of 
guilt,  of  shame  and  remorse.  Indirectly,  the  affections 
also  strengthen  the  right,  as  they  themselves  are  nour- 
ished by  it.  These  are  disinterested,  and  only  arise  in 
full  force  in  connection  with  virtue.  Once  present, 
they  strongly  animate  the  mind,  and  render  its  obedi- 
ence spontaneous  and  cheerful.  They  enforce  virtue  by 
the  enjoyments  which  they  bring.  They  are  reverence, 
love,  benevolence,  pity,  gratitude,  indignation,  scorn, 
according  to  the  character  and  condition  of  the  person 
drawing  them  forth..  The  word  "love"  has  come  to 
cover  a  great  variety  of  feelings,  but  more  specifically 
applies  to  moral  affection.  Any  or  all  these  feelings 
may  be  called  forth  as  the  grounds  of  moral  action. 

Pleasure  and  interest   present   motives  of  action   of 


ORATOKY.  41 

another  class,  legitimate  or  illegitimate,  according  as 
they  are  retained  within  or  pass  beyond  the  limits  assigned 
them  by  morality.  Ultimately  both  of  these  rest  on  the 
appetites  and  passions  for  impulse.  Our  appetites  are  the 
most  immediate  inlets  of  pleasure,  and  hence,  in  the  antici- 
pation and  provision  which  they  require,  the  most  obvious 
incentives  to  action.  Nor  are  these  appetites  exclusively 
those  of  the  body.  The  love  of  truth  and  of  beauty 
are  essentially  of  this  nature.  These  tastes  of  the  mind, 
like  appetites,  furnish  a  direct  motive  to  action. 

The  passions  are  distinguished  from  the  affections 
in  having  perpetual  reference  to  self  ;  in  finding  at 
this  point  the  spring  of  feeling  ;  and  in  the  sudden 
and  complete  control  which  they  often  attain.  Though 
social,  they  are,  as  far  as  the  good  of  others  is  con- 
cerned, either  indifferent  or  malevolent.  Of  the  first 
class  are  vanity,  pride,  contempt.  Vanity  and  pride, 
from  their  religious  use,  have  become  terms  of  cen- 
sure, and  are  applied  only  to  the  stronger  feelings  of 
their  class,  while  self-love  and  self-respect  -mark  the 
milder  exercise  of  the  same  emotions.  We  use  the  one 
term  to  cover  all  degrees  of  satisfaction  in  view  of  the 
admiration  to  be  elicited  by  one's  possessions  or  accom- 
plishments ;  the  other,  all  degrees  of  esteem  in  which 
one  holds  himself.  So  used,  it  is  obvious  they  mark 
very  powerful  and  pervasive  feelings,  furnishing  con- 


42  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

stant  motives  to  action.  Indeed,  vanity  and  pride  lie 
at  the  very  root  of  interested  effort.  The  malevolent 
passions,  arising  from  some  disturbance  of  self  by 
another,  are  anger,  hatred,  envy,  jealousy.  Tft  urge 
any  action  by  its  immediate  relation  to  appetite  or 
passion,  is  to  appeal  to  pleasure. 

More  frequently,  however,  the  gratification  is  remote. 
Means  to  be  secured  by  labor  intervene,  and  toward 
them  the  effort  is  directed.  These  means  call  forth 
desire — a  feeling  differing  in  the  objects  toward  which 
it  is  directed,  buvt  in  its  nature  the  same.  The  mind 
is  not  indifferent  to  the  things  which  afford  gratification, 
but  is  thrown  by  them,  one  and  all,  into  a  state  of 
desire.  These  means  to  ulterior  pleasure  which  call 
forth  the  desires  are  wealth,  power,  position,  and 
knowledge.  There  are  other  things  whose  presence 
is  a  condition  of  our  enjoyment,  as  life  and  society, 
and  these  may  be  said  to  be  objects  of  desire.  They, 
however,  stand  in  a  different  relation  to  desire  from 
the  four  former.  These  are  the  constant  objects  of 
effort,  the  immediate  and  pervasive  motives  of  action. 
An  action  springing  from  any  one  of  them  is  said  to  be 
interested,  since  it  seeks  means  which  may  afford 
pleasure.  These  desires  sometimes  become  so  intense, 
so  overlook  the  end  in  view,  as  to  be  termed  passions. 
Of  this  nature  is  avarice.  There  are  also  passions 


ORATORY.  43 

directly  aroused  by  the  relations  of  objects  to  desire,  as 
joy,  sorrow,  hope,  fear,  disappointment,  regret.  Mo- 
tives drawn  from  the  desires,  or  the  passions  immediately 
dependent  on  them,  are  those  of  interest;  and  from  one 
of  the  three  sources  of  action,  right,  pleasure,  and 
interest,  all  motives  must  be  taken.  The  higher  may 
include  the  lower  motive,  or  the  lower  may  strengthen 
the  higher,  or  there  may  be  a  present  conflict  between 
them. 

The  highest  form  of  eloquence  is  evidently  that  which 
most  thoroughly  and  deeply  searches  the  human  heart 
for  motives  resulting  in  the  broadest  and  most  valuable 
action.  So  judged,  that  oratory  which  acts  on  the 
moral  impulses,  and  seeks  to  change  character,  is 
preeminent.  Here  the  end  is  most  inclusive — the  trans- 
formation of  the  whole  man,  the  government  of  all 
action  by  the  pervasive  law  of  right.  No  purpose  can 
be  more  profound  than  this.  The  impulses  to  which 
the  orator  trusts  are  those  of  conscience  and  the  affec 
tions,  the  holiest  portions  of  our  nature.  In  the  great- 
ness of  the  work  and  the  weight  of  the  motives,  no 
persuasion  can  surpass  that  which  enforces  virtue.  As 
the  moral  affections  are  chiefly  aroused  by  religion,  as 
virtue  has  only  been  persistently  and  successfully  en- 
forced in  connection  with  the  Christian  religion,  this 
kind  of  oratory  has  been  termed  that  of  the  pulpit. 


44  PHILOSOPHY  OP   RHETORIC. 

The  moral  nature,  in  the  duties  which  it  imposes  in 
our  relations  to  God,  gives  rise  to  religion,  and  virtue 
becomes  holiness.  The  moral  law  cannot  fail,  if  rightly 
apprehended,  to  extend  itself  to,  and  enforce,  religion ; 
and  the  facts  of  religion,  in  turn,  cannot  fail  to  throw 
about  all  moral  duties  new  sanctions,  and  to  evolve 
minor  obligations  in  their  natural  dependence  from  the 
chief  obligation —  that  of  man  to  God.  Eevelation  en- 
larges the  sphere  of  conscience,  not  by  arbitrary  com- 
mands, but  by  bringing  to  light  new  and  fundamental 
facts,  in  themselves  inclusive  of  old  duties  and  imposing 
fresli  ones.  Eeligioii  of  necessity  thus  involves  and 
includes  the  highest  morality;  because  its  peculiar  in- 
junctions are,  in  their  consequences,  more  weighty  than 
any  other  ;  because  it  enforces  the  minor  duties  of  man 
to  man  from  a  new  and  higher  standpoint,  a  broader 
apprehension  of  the  relations  from  which  they  spring, 
and  the  results  to  which  they  lead  ;  and  because,  in  its 
own  promises  and  threaten  ings,  and  in  the  power  with 
which  it  arouses  the  affections,  it  adopts  and  reinvigor- 
ates  the  moral  law.  There  thus  arises  sacred  eloquence, 
— the  eloquence  of  a  Christian  pulpit, — immeasurably 
superior  in  the  motives  and  emotions  with  which  it 
animates  the  mind  and  heart.  The  immediate  conse- 
quences of  virtue  and  vice  are  lost  in  their  more  per- 
manent results ;  the  breadth  of  eternity  is  given  to 


ORATORY.  45 

action ;  the  grace  of  God  stoops  to  bless  man  to  his 
utmost  capacity ;  the  justice  of  God  walls  in  and  pur- 
sues his  transgressions.  In  weight,  terror,  sublimity, 
joy,  and  hope,  no  motives  can  for  an  instant  compare 
with  those  which  in  sacred  eloquence  inspire  and  over- 
power the  mind.  Virtue  is  caught  up  and  in  wrapped  with 
the  ineffable  glory  of  God ;  the  virtuous  man  is  caught 
up  and  in  wrapped  in  the  glory  of  an  incarnate  Christ. 
Armed  as  is  this  oratory  with  weapons  of  celestial 
temper,  it  has  the  utmost  occasion  for  them  all.  If  sacred 
oratory  is  great  in  its  theme,  great  also  are  the  difficul- 
ties which  it  has  to  overcome.  It  opposes  itself  not  to 
isolated  actions,  but  to  the  very  current  of  conduct.  It 
proposes  to  reach  the  whole  life,  and  shape  it  from  its 
very  centre ;  to  re-beget  the  man  into  truth  and  love. 
Indifference  strengthening  into  aversion  is  to  be  met ; 
the  ear  is  to  be  won  ;  the  intellect  to  be  convinced ;  the 
heart  to  be  convicted ;  and  the  religious  nature  so 
aroused  and  inspired,  that  it  can  cast  down  and  rule 
the  long  dominant  impulses  of  the  soul.  Yet  the  chief 
obstacle  to  success  is  in  the  mind  of  the  orator  himself. 
He  is  ever  liable  to  lose  conviction,  to  share  the  spirit 
which  he  is  to  correct,  and  to  try  with  unsubstantial  and 
inoperative  ideas  to  exorcise  the  spirit  of  unbelief. 
There  is  no  oratory  whose  whole  power  depends  so 
much  on  its  inspiration  as  this,  since  it  seeks  to  attain 


46  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

vitalizing  truth.  God  must  breathe  into  its  nostrils  the 
breath  of  life,  that  it  may  become  a  living  soul. 

How  wholly  sacred  oratory  is  the  offspring  of  the 
Christian  religion  is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  the  demonstra- 
tive oration  of  the  ancients,  which  most  nearly  cor- 
responds to  it,  is  ever  liable  to  sink  out  of  the  depart- 
ment of  eloquence  by  lacking  an  immediate  practical  end. 
A  eulogy,  a  presentation  of  character,  is  not  strictly 
oratory,  save  as  it  oversteps  the  limits  of  praise,  and 
holds  up  for  instruction  the  conduct  presented ;  save  as 
it  condenses  into  *  motive  the  narrative  of  an  illustrious 
life,  and  presses  the  hearer  from  idle  admiration  to 
active  emulation.  The  difficulty  with  which  it  reaches 
a  practical  end,  and  the  facility  with  which,  in  the 
symmetry  of  an  artistic  labor,  it  loses  itself,  separate 
this  form  of  oratory  very  far  from  sacred  eloquence. 
It  belongs  rather  to  those  transitional,  doubtful  products, 
which,  indeed,  retain  oral  delivery,  but  lack  the  essential 
feature  of  strict  address  —  its  hold  on  action. 

The  interests  and  pleasures  of  men  furnish  the  de- 
partment of  secular  eloquence.  These,  as  motives  of 
action,  are  intimately  related,  the  difference  between 
them  being  chiefly  one  of  time.  What  contributes  to 
our  present  interest  or  advantage  is  expected  to  con- 
tribute to  our  future  pleasure.  It  is  an  anticipated 
enjoyment  which  imparts  present  value  to  objects  whose 
possession  is  coveted. 


ORATORY.  47 

Address  contemplates  an  audience,  an  assembly  of 
individuals,  to  be  influenced  by  common  considerations. 
This  address  may  aim  at  individual  action  or  at  joint 
action ;  at  the  action  of  man  as  man  under  his  individ- 
ual responsibilities,  or  at  those  joint  measures  by  which 
communities  and  associations  determine  and  regulate 
their  conduct.  In  the  first  case,  oratory  will  be  almost 
wholly  of  a  moral  or  sacred  character,  and  belong  to 
the  type  already  spoken  of;  in  the  second  case,  it  will 
be  chiefly  of  a  secular  character,  the  expediency  and  wis- 
dom of  a  proposed  measure  being  the  object  of  discus- 
sion. It  is  only  the  moral  and  religious  impulses, 
which,  fundamentally  the  same  in  all,  need  to  be  aroused 
and  directed  by  oratory  —  to  be  called  forth  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  life.  Individual  pleasure  and  interest 
are  so  diverse  in  the  lines  of  conduct  which  they  secure, 
as  to  allow  little  except  instructions,  furnishing  general 
principles  for  their  guidance ;  are  so  prompt  and  exces- 
sive in  their  action,  as  to  require  little  aside  from  the 
restraint  and  government  of  the  moral  nature.  Virtue, 
therefore,  in  its  individual  forms,  as  temperance,  —  in  its 
collective  and  most  authoritative  forms,  as  religion,  — 
becomes  the  controlling,  the  well  nigh  exclusive  motive 
of  all  oratory,  which  seeks  to  influence  man  in  his 
strictly  personal  life.  This  form  of  address,  having  to 
do  with  that  which  is  sacred  in  man,  —  with  virtue,  — 


48  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

partakes,  in  all  its  branches,  of  the  character,  and  is 
subject  to  the  laws,  of  its  fullest  type  —  pulpit  oratory. 
While  the  interests  and  pleasure  of  the  individual  fall 
out  of  oratory,  and  become  questions  of  private  pur- 
suit, those  interests  which  are  reached  or  protected  by 
the  joint  action  of  men  afford  points  of  grave  delibera- 
tion. The  law  of  right  still  remains  as  a  governing 
principle,  by  which  all  action  should  be  restrained ;  but 
the  question  is  constantly  arising,  What,  within  the 
limits  assigned  by  moral  law,  do  the  interests  of  the 
community  demand?  What,  within  the  constitutional 
law  of  man's  nature,  should  become  civil  law  ?  These 
questions  are  propounded  again  and  again  in  each  or- 
ganic assembly,  from  the  highest  legislative  body  to  the 
lowest,  and  in  each  are  to  be  answered  on  principles 
of  general  advantage.  It  is  points  of  common  interest, 
and  not  of  individual  morality,  which  are  committed  to 
legislation,  and  it  is  in  its  relations  to  the  first  that  the 
second  is  discussed.  In  the  pulpit,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  first  is  treated  in  its  bearings  on  the  second.  Here 
secular  eloquence  distinguishes  itself  broadly  from 
sacred.  It  has  to  do  with  the  life,  the  action,  of  the 
community,  as  opposed  to  the  life,  the  action,  of  the 
individual.  This  is  strictly  private,  of  no  moment, 
save  as,  leaving  its  province,  it  directly  affects  that 
which  is  public— the  safety  and  social  well-being 


ORATORY.  49 

of  others,  the  well-being  of  government.  Sacred  elo- 
quence, on  the  other  hand,  penetrates  at  once  the  pri- 
vacy of  the  individual  heart,  and  laboring  here,  only 
shows  itself  indirectly,  though  most  efficiently,  in  ques- 
tions of  social  and  political  concernment.  The  highest 
legislative  body  works  within  man's  original  native 
rights ;  the  lowest,  within  these,  and  also  within  those 
further  regulations  established  and  defined  by  superior 
civil  law.  Allied  to  these  are  the  questions  which 
occupy  every  deliberative  body,  from  the  most  perma- 
nent corporate  association  to  the  most  transient  popului 
meeting.  Even  a  religious  body,  as  a  body,  is  occu- 
pied with  questions  of  prudence  and  wisdom  —  of  the 
judicious  choice  of  means. 

Deliberative  eloquence  is  one  of  the  long-recognized 
departments  of  oratory.  As  contrasted  with  pulpit  ora- 
tory, its  advantages  are  found  in  the  singleness  and  ex- 
plicitness  of  the  action  proposed,  and  the  spontaneous 
interest  which  it  usually  calls  forth ;  its  inferiority  in  the 
relatively  narrow,  though  weighty,  motives  with  which 
it  presses  the  heart. 

What  faith  and  love  are  to  sacred  oratory,  liberty, 
public  weal,  and  patriotism  are  to  secular  oratory. 
Much  will  be  left  to  the  deliberation  of  men  in  a  free 
government,  little  in  a  tyrannical.  Oratory  will  become 
a  most  coveted  and  just  instrument  of  influence  in  legis- 
3  D 


50  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

lative  and  popular  assemblies,  when  these  are  them- 
selves the  source  of  power.  Freedom  gives  play  to 
action,  and  action  may  then  be  controlled  by  the  just, 
the  natural  law  of  persuasion.  The  mass-meeting,  the 
hall,  and  the  senate  chamber  have  not  existed  without  a 
vast  influence  on  oratory  in  our  own  country. 

A  subsidiary,  and,  in  the  form  in  which  it  now  exists, 
a  most  peculiar,  type  of  eloquence  is  that  of  the  bar. 
Law  established  is  yet  to  be  applied.  To  determine 
what  is  law,  and  what  are  the  facts  on  which  it  is  to  be 
administered,  requires  much  investigation  and  discrimi- 
nation. This,  in  a  trial  had  before  a  limited  bench  of 
learned  judges,  resolves  itself  into  an  almost  exclusively 
logical  process,  and,  losing  the  emotional  element,  ceases 
to  be  oratory.  Occasionally,  however,  the  judge,  in 
setting  aside  or  establishing  precedents,  is  for  the  time 
being  a  legislator ;  broad  and  weighty  motives  of  general 
interest  may  be  urged  upon  the  mind,  and  the  plea 
become  a  most  thoughtful,  yet  impassioned,  product. 

In  the  trial  by  jury,  more  of  the  popular  element  is 
preserved ;  and  though  the  question  is  here  strictly  one 
of  facts,  of  proof,  and  therefore  somewhat  severe  and 
barren,  the  orator  easily  steals  away  from  the  legal  evi- 
dence and  character  of  the  act  to  its  social  effects  and 
dramatic  bearings.  The  plea  thus  often  becomes  more 
emotional  than  it  of  right  ought  to  be,  and  the  moral 


ORATORY.  51 

law  of  oratory,  which  regulates  the  just  influence  of 
mind  over  mind,  is  in  a  measure  set  aside.  The  judge 
and  jury  being  by  oath  and  by  common  integrity  bound 
to  the  line  of  legal,  of  just  action,  there  is  given  to  evi- 
dence and  argument,  in  judicial  oratory,  a  preponderance 
which  does  not  belong  to  them  in  the  symmetrical  ora- 
tion. Persuasion  is  in  many  forms  positively  imperti- 
nent, since  it  implies  a  want  of  integrity  in  those  to 
whom  it  is  addressed. 

To  escape  as  far  as  may  be  the  dulness  of  demonstra- 
tion, and  yet,  on  the  one  hand,  not  fall  into  the  impro- 
priety of  a  popular  harangue,  nor,  on  the  other,  employ 
surreptitious  motives,  becomes  the  difficult  task  of  the 
advocate.  Ancient  judicial  eloquence  was  quite  different 
from  modern,  through  the  unsettled  laws,  and  the  num- 
ber and  popular  character  of  the  judges ;  it  was  appro- 
priately, therefore,  a  more  impassioned  appeal. 

The  chief  divisions  of  oratory,  according  as  individual 
or  collective  action  is  aimed  at,  are  sacred  and  secular. 
The  chief  form  of  secular  oratory  is  deliberative.  In 
modern  society,  in  the  application  of  law,  occasion  is 
given  for  a  second  and  restricted  form  —  that  of  judicial 
oratory.  There  is  a  large  and  increasing  class  of  lec- 
tures, addresses,  orations,  which  may  not  seem  readily 
to  fall  into  any  of  the  above  divisions.  Many  of  these 
so  lack  the  force  and  form  of  address,  or  are  so  -strictly 


52  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

didactic,  as  not  to  belong  to  oratory.  A  large  number 
aim  to  affect  the  moral  state  of  the  individual,  to  inspire 
philanthropy,  patriotism,  a  love  of  excellence,  or  a 
regard  for  truth.  These  derive  their  incentives  from  the 
moral  nature,  and  direct  themselves  to  it,  and  hence 
belong  to  the  class  of  sacred  oratory.  Many  preach 
besides  those  who  profess  to.  A  smaller  class  of  casual 
speeches,  proposing  some  social  or  associate  action, 
belong  to  the  class  of  deliberative  orations. 


BOOK    II< 


THE  means  of  composition,  which  we  now  proceed  to 
discuss,  are  of  two  kinds — the  very  material,  the  thought, 
the  feeling,  which  the  mind  furnishes,  and  the  language, 
which  gives  shape  to  it.  These  two  stand  to  each  other 
in  the  relation  of  substance  and  form,  and  we  must 
know  the  nature  of  the  one,  and  the  laws  which  govern 
the  other,  before  we  can  advantageously  employ  them. 
Few  will  hesitate  to  speak  of  language  as  a  means, 
something  to  be  employed  in  composition,  and  therefore 
to  be  studied  in  its  rhetorical  laws  and  relations,  while 
a  knowledge  of  its  construction  and  grammatical  prin- 
ciples is  presupposed.  It  will  not,  however,  seem  so 
plain  that  the  subject-matter  of  composition,  the  argu- 
ment and  emotion  employed,  should  be  regarded  as 
means.  This  use  of  language  is  applicable  to  oratory, 
rather  than  to  poetry  or  philosophy. 

The  oration,  having  in  view  an  immediate  external 

(53) 


54  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

end,  must  select  from  its  resources  that  which  shall  be 
to  it  the  means  of  present  success.  The  essay,  the 
poem,  on  the  other  hand,  aiming  to  present  what  is 
already  contained  in  the  mind  and  the  emotions,  have 
occasion  for  a  right  method,  but  not  for  a  choice  of 
means,  since  the  truths,  the  conception  to  be  presented, 
are  both  end  and  means.  In  philosophy,  argument  is 
not  the  instrument  of  an  advocate,  wielded  for  a  pur- 
pose, opening  a  way  toward  an  ulterior  object,  but  is 
the  unfolding  of  inherent  connections  and  intrinsic  rela- 
tions, by  which,  we  come  to  see  things  as  they  are. 
Vision  is  here  aimed  at,  and  the  eye  is  directed  along 
the  line  of  exposition  and  argument  as  the  vista  of 
truth.  Truth  is  only  known  when  known  in  itself  and 
in  its  premises  :  the  premises  are  more  a  portion  of  it 
than  a  means  to  it.  It  is  not  belief,  but  the  grounds  of 
belief,  that  philosophy  inculcates.  The  ends  and  means, 
therefore,  are  the  same ;  and  while  it  requires  perspicuity 
of  presentation,  the  thought  in  hand  furnishes  the  limit 
and  substance  of  its  labor.  The  same  is  true  of  poetry. 
Its  emotions  are  not  means,  but  ends  ;  not  necessities,  but 
indulgences ;  not  the  straight  lines  of  effort,  but  the 
eddying  circuits  of  pleasure. 

Our  first  inquiries,  therefore,  must  have  chief  refer- 
ence to  oratory,  since  this  alone  aims  directly  at  influ- 
ence, and  needs  alone  to  seek  directly  its  means. 


THE   LAW   OF  INFLUENCE.  55 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  LAW  OF  INFLUENCE. 

WHILE  man  has  an  individual  life,  complete  in  itself, 
the  development  and  fulness  of  that  life  are  most  strictly 
dependent  on  his  social  connections.  The  bud  of  the 
vine  has  latent  within  it  the  entire  power  of  its  species  ; 
yet  no  bud  blossoms  or  bears  the  clustering  grapes, 
except  as  it  is  one  of  a  community  of  buds,  receiving 
nourishment  from  a  common  stock.  The  mature  fruit 
of  the  tree  is  not  reached  by  divided,  but  by  com- 
pounded life.  It  is  borne  aloft  on  trunk  and  branches, 
the  growth  of  years,  and  nourished  by  the  associated 
life  of  which  it  is  but  a  feeble  portion.  Thus  is  it  with 
man.  Man  alone  is  a  savage :  one  in  the  community 
of  the  family,  of  the  state,  and  of  civilized  nations,  he 
becomes  civilized,  and  completes  the  circle  of  his  com- 
forts with  the  products  of  all  climates,  and  the  labors 
of  all  men.  Individual  life  is  a  bud  far  up,  and  far 
out,  on  the  common  stock.  It  is  sustained  by  the 
knowledge,  the  strength,  of  those  who  have  gone  before 
it,  and  nourished  by  the  activity  of  those  about  it. 


56  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

This  is  equally  true  of  it  in  its  physical  and  intellectual 
dependences. 

The  influence  of  man  over  man  is  not  only  admissible, 
it  is  inevitable ;  not  only  inevitable,  but  the  condition 
and  law  of  his  progress.  Among  the  various  forms  of 
influence  which  men  exert  one  upon  another,  none  is 
more  legitimate,  more  respects  the  integrity  and  free- 
dom of  individual  action,  than  persuasion.  The  limit, 
the  law  of  persuasion,  defining  its  end  and  means,  is 
that  of  right.  Not  that  action,  as  virtuous,  is  the  only 
end  to  be  proposed  by  the  orator ;  but  his  aims  and 
methods  are  ever  to  be  enclosed  within  those  of  virtue, 
lying  in  the  same  direction  with  them,  always  receiving 
their  sanction,  often  enforced  by  their  obligations. 

It  is  only  by  accepting  the  law  of  virtue  as  the  line 
and  limit  of  influence,  that  the  orator  respects  his  own 
nature.  Right  is,  or  should  be,  the  rule  of  his  intel- 
lectual and  social  life.  Not  till  he  can  invalidate  a 
claim  enforced  in  his  own  conscience,  and  annul  the 
grand  distinction  and  justification  of  conduct,  may  he 
set  it  aside  in  the  most  delicate  and  widely  influential 
of  his  acts. 

The  claims  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  nature  of 
the  persons  persuaded  against  virtue  are  also  disre- 
garded. To  reach  an  illegitimate  end,  the  orator  must 
avail  himself  of  ignorance,  resort  to  misrepresentation. 


THE   LAW   OF   INFLUENCE.  57 

excite  or  cherish  excessive  or  unworthy  emotion.  To 
withhold  truth  and  arouse  evil  passions  is  a  wrong  done 
to  the  parties  affected  by  such  action ;  much  more  is  it 
a  wrong  when  these  means  are  used  to  induce  action, 
and  make  the  persons  persuaded  partners  in  evil.  Ora- 
tory, relying  on  the  spontaneous,  free  movement  of  the 
mind,  referring  all  its  motives  to  its  approval  and  adop- 
tion, cannot  neglect  the  very  laws  of  thought,  truth  and 
right  underlying  its  action. 

If,  however,  we  take  the  low  ground  that  success 
gives  law  to  every  department  of  effort,  and  that  ora- 
tory, as  an  art,  only  asks  what  can  be  done  by  the  ora- 
tor with  ultimate  advantage  to  himself,  we  still  reach 
the  same  conclusion.  Eight  is  the  law  of  general  and 
permanent  success  in  influence. 

The  orator  must  lose  hold  upon  truth,  when  he  ceases 
to  present  it,  to  make  it  the  staple  of  his  own  thinking 
and  acting.  If  he  deserts  the  right  at  one  time,  he 
cannot  return  to  it  with  deep  conviction  at  another.  It 
becomes  to  him  like  his  other  methods — a  device  and  a 
trick,  requiring  only  skill  to  be  well  played  off.  What- 
ever may  be  said  of  rhetoric,  the  man  himself,  the  ora- 
tor, cannot  prosper  intellectually  and  emotionally  with 
such  a  method.  The  depth,  sincerity  and  vigor  of  his 
nature  are  lost.  All  the  distinctions  which  judgment 
and  conscience  make  are  in  practice  thrown  away,  and 
3* 


58  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

the  mind,  employed  as  an  instrument  of  cunning  expe- 
dients, first  grows  weary  of,  and  then  despises,  all  genu- 
ine, thorough  work.  There  can  be  no  moral  affection, 
no  enthusiasm  for  truth ;  for  the  heart  is  either  never 
called  forth,  or  shortly  betrayed.  The  power  of  will  is 
lost,  as  it  systematically  yields  to  circumstances,  nothing 
being  proposed  save  temporary  success. 

The  whole  man,  therefore,  being  \veakened  and  wasted 
by  such  a  method,  what  shall  become  of  the  orator? 
Scepticism,  suspicion,  and  insincerity,  however  crafty 
they  may  be,  cannot  compass  any  weighty  moral  ends. 
The  powers  of  a  world  of  conviction,  faith,  and  hon- 
esty have  become  a  mockery  to  them,  and  therefore 
forever  elude  them.  Virtue  is  the  law  of  intellectual, 
emotional,  and  voluntary  life  in  the  orator,  and,  there- 
fore, the  law  of  oratory.  To  think  the  contrary  is  to 
suppose  that  falsehood  is  as  productive  as  truth,  and 
that  a  mind  which  betrays  itself  in  all  its  best  impulses 
shall  yet  lose  none  of  its  strength. 

If  we  look  at  the  persons  addressed,  we  shall  also 
see  that  virtue  assigns  the  law  of  successful  persuasion. 
The  orator  who  avails  himself  of  the  ignorance  and 
passions  of  men  incurs  the  risk,  that,  in  wiser  and 
calmer  moments,  the  fact  may  be  discerned,  and  prove 
henceforth  the  occasion  of  distrust  and  separation.  The 
grounds  of  influence  in  oratory  are  confidence  and  sym- 


THE   LAW   OF   INFLUENCE.  59 

pathy.  Without  these,  the  mind  holds  itself  aloof,  and 
the  emotions  sought  for  are  not  aroused.  Nothing  more 
excites  men  of  ordinary  intelligence  to  resistance,  to 
close  all  the  avenues  of  the  heart,  than  the  discovery 
that  they  have  been  deceived  and  designedly  misled. 
The  reserve  with  which  men  listen  to  a  plea  at  the  bar 
or  the  harangue  of  a  politician,  the  suspicion  and  cau- 
tion with  which  they  follow  its  arguments,  illustrate  the 
loss  of  confidence  with  which  those  persons  are  received 
whose  aims  are  divided  between  interest  and  truth. 
The  orator,  to  secure  confidence, — the  great  condition  of 
influence,  —  must  either,  therefore,  be  virtuous,  or  per- 
fectly simulate  virtue,  or  rely  on  an  ignorance  and 
rudeness  too  great  even  to  discover  or  heed  the  funda- 
mental character  of  the  measures  and  means  employed. 
It  is  evident  that  but  one  of  these  ways  can  be  certainly 
and  constantly*  successful.  The  greater  the  intelligence 
and  virtue  of  those  addressed,  the  broader  and  more  im- 
portant the  field  of  oratory,  the  more  does  right  become 
the  inviolable  law  of  influence.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  ignorant  and  vicious  men,  wise  and  virtuous 
men  will  not  long  yield  themselves  to  the  mischievous 
management  of  a  monger  of  lies. 

The  notion  of  oratory  which  regards  it  as  open  to  all 
expedients  and  forms  of  trickery,  is  radically  false. 
True  words,  words  powerful  to  convince  and  persuade, 


60  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

are  not  mere  words,  are  not  hollow,  but  full,  swelling 
with  the  life  and  character  of  the  man  who  utters  them. 
Only  so  far  as  speech  embodies  emotion  and  becomos 
genuine  in  the  mouth  of  him  whose  it  is,  can  it  arouse 
and  inspire  men.  Fire  cannot  be  kindled  without  fire. 
The  mind  of  the  orator  is  the  point  of  greatest  heat: 
here  all  becomes  molten,  concurrent,  ready  to  issue  into 
the  world  of  action.  It  is  his  character  which  gives 
character  to  the  words  of  a  great  orator.  They  are 
quick  with  his  life.  They  are  thrown  forth  by  his 
assertion,  they  penetrate  by  his  power.  One  cannot 
steal  the  mail,  neither  can  he  steal  the  eloquence,  of  a 
nobler  man.  Words  measure,  and  are  measured  by, 
the  mind's  dimensions,  and,  repeated  without  the  power 
which  first  uttered  them,  are  well  nigh  lost.  It  is  im- 
possible to  swell  out  the  contour  of  a  great  oration  with- 
out a  corresponding  life,  since  the  one  can  only  be  by, 
and  because  of,  the  other.  Greatness  is  not  born  of 
nothing,  and  least  of  all  in  the  department  of  moral 
influence.  We  must  not  be  suffered  to  forget  the  fa- 
mous words  of  the  great  orator,  — 

"  True  eloquence,  indeed,  does  not  consist  in  speech. 
It  cannot  be  brought  from  far.  Labor  and  learning 
may  toil  for  it,  but  they  will  toil  in  vain.  Words  and 
phrases  may  be  marshalled  in  every  way,  but  they  can- 
not compass  it.  It  must  exist  in  the  man,  in  the  sub- 


THE  LAW   OF  INFLUENCE.  61 

ject,  and  in  the  occasion.  Affected  passion,  intense 
expression,  the  pomp  of  declamation,  all  may  aspire  to 
it ;  they  cannot  reach  it.  It  comes,  if  it  come  at  all, 
like  the  outbreaking  of  a  fountain  from  the  earth,  or  the 
bursting  forth  of  volcanic  fires,  with  spontaneous,  ori- 
ginal, native  force.  The  graces  taught  in  the  schools, 
the  costly  ornaments  and  studied  contrivances  of  speech, 
shock  and  disgust  men,  when  their  own  lives,  and  the 
fate  of  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their  country, 
hang  on  the  decision  of  the  hour.  Then  words  have 
lost  their  power,  rhetoric  is  vain,  and  all  elaborate 
oratory  contemptible.  Even  genius  itself  then  feels 
rebuked  and  subdued,  as  in  the  presence  of  higher 
qualities.  Then  patriotism  is  eloquent ;  then  self-devo- 
tion is  eloquent.  The  clear  conception,  outrunning  the 
deductions  of  logic,  the  high  purpose,  the  firm  resolve, 
the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the  tongue,  beaming 
from  the  eye,  informing  every  feature,  and  urging  the 
whole  man  onward,  right  onward  to  his  object,  —  this, 
this  is  eloquence ;  or  rather  it  is  something  greater  and 
higher  than  all  eloquence;  it  is  action,  noble,  sublime, 
godlike  action." 

Eloquence  must  then  rely  on  moral  force,  since  this 
is  the  force  of  character,  and  there  is  no  strong  rational 
life  that  is  not  locked  together  by  a  moral  purpose. 
The  chief  ends  of  oratory  are  directly  moral;  the 


62  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

included  ends  of  prosperity  and  social  well-being  are  so 
indirectly.  In  advocating  these,  there  is  ever  an  ulterior 
reference  to  the  moral  conditions  of  society  —  a  sub- 
servience of  immediate  to  remote  good,  of  individual  to 
general  good,  which  subjects  the  labor  and  views  of  the 
orator  to  virtue. 

Success  in  just  ends,  through  and  within  moral  inter- 
ests, is  the  law  of  influence  in  oratory.  If  we  cannot 
enumerate  robbery  among  the  methods  of  production  or 
of  exchange,  much  more  can  we  not  admit  deception 
among  the  means  of  influence.  The  former  is  not  more 
totally  destructive  of  the  conditions  of  commercial  suc- 
cess than  the  latter  of  the  enda  of  speech. 


ARGUMENTS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ARGUMENTS. 

FACTS,  truths,  are  the  only  safe  basis  and  guide  of 
action.  Our  action,  to  be  successful,  must  unite  itself 
to  things  as  they  are,  and  lie  in  the  line  of  the  forces 
which  govern  the  world.  Without  this,  all  effort  is 
futile,  all  issues  are  false.  The  first  necessity  of  rational 
action,  therefore,  is  truth ;  a  presentation  of  the  facts  on 
which  effort  is  to  be  grafted,  and  of  the  principles  by 
which  it  is  to  be  governed.  As  an  accurate  and  correct 
statement  of  facts  and  principles  is  not  readily  arrived 
at,  as  many  motives  exist  which  may  induce  others  to 
mislead  us,  presentation  must  assume,  more  or  less,  the 
form  of  proof,  according  to  the  difficulty  and  doubt 
involved.  If  we  have  confidence  in  the  knowledge  and 
good  intention  of  the  person  bringing  forward  the  facts, 
we  require  no  proof  beyond  the  testimony  of  a  simple 
statement.  More  frequently,  however,  suspicious  of 
the  many  unconscious  errors  of  opinion ;  of  the  warp- 
ing effect  of  feeling,  habit,  and  interest ;  of  the  zeal 
of  the  advocate,  the  partisan  attachments  of  the  orator, 


64  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

or  the  limited  relations  of  the  preacher,  —  we  require  an 
independent  basis  of  rational  belief  to  be  furnished  to 
our  own  minds. 

Presentation  thus  becomes  argument,  proof,  support- 
ing a  proposition,  establishing  a  fact,  or  sweeping  away 
an  error.  The  sources  and  kinds  of  proof,  and  their 
relations  to  conviction,  become,  therefore,  important  sub- 
sidiary inquiries  to  the  strictly  rhetorical  work  —  the 
best  choice,  arrangement,  and  statement  of  arguments 
for  their  effect  on  the  mind. 

The  sources  vof  proof  are  two  —  intuition  and  experi- 
ence. The  word  "  intuition  "  is  taken  from  the  action  of 
one  of  our  senses,  but  is  capable  of  an  easy  extension 
to  all  those  faculties  of  internal  or  external  perception 
which  directly  or  independently  report  anything  to 
the  mind. 

First  among  the  intuitive  powers  of  the  mind  are  the 
senses.  These  present  distinct  and  peculiar  phenomena, 
and  are  our  most  adequate  authority  for  them.  We  can 
have  no  better  proof  for  a  fact  than  that  we  ourselves 
have  seen  or  heard  it.  This  testimony  of  the  senses  is 
independent  and  authoritative,  and  can  only  be  modified 
by  the  conclusions  of  an  experience  which  has  pro- 
ceeded on  the  ground  of  its  general  validity.  When 
and  how  far  the  eye  and  the  ear  are  to  be  trusted,  we 
can  only  decide  by  testimony  which  they  themselves  give 


ARGUMENTS.  65 

us.  Within  these  limits,  their  proof  is  as  perfect  as 
any  proof  can  be. 

A  second  form  of  intuitive  knowledge  is  that  direct 
apprehension  which  the  mind  has  of  its  own  action. 
It  is  more  usually  termed  the  testimony  of  consciousness. 
It  does  not  arise  from  any  one  faculty,  but  from  the 
very  nature  of  mind.  Thought  that  it  may  be  thought, 
must  be  known  to  itself;  feeling  that  it  may  be  feeling, 
must  be  aware  of  itself;  mind  that  it  may  be  mind, 
must  be  conscious  of  its  own  phenomena.  Complete 
sleep  or  unconsciousness  would  involve  the  perfect  sus- 
pension of  intellectual  life.  Consciousness  testifies  di- 
rectly to  mental  phenomena  —  to  their  existence  and 
character,  not  to  their  correctness  or  the  truth  of 
their  results. 

A  third  source  of  intuitive  knowledge  is  memory  — 
the  testimony  which  the  mind  gives  to  facts  which  have 
occurred  in  its  past  experience.  This,  of  all  the  forms 
of  direct  proof,  is  the  most  uncertain,  is  subject  to  the 
most  limitations  and  corrections  from  experience.  These 
restrictions,  however  carefully  established,  do  not  give 
to  memory  its  authority :  this  is  independent  and 
original ;  experience  only  defining  the  bounds  within 
which  it  can  be  relied  on.  Though  a  man  should  see 
but  six  feet,  it  is,  nevertheless,  sight  which  carries 
knowledge  thus  far.  Memory  is  verified  by  memory, 

E 


66  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

and  the  experience  which  corrects  it  depends  upon  it. 
A  certain  picture  which  memory  has  given  I  may  after- 
ward be  able  to  confront  with  the  facts  themselves 
derived  from  an  independent  source,  as  testimony  or 
vision ;  yet  even  in  this  most  favorable  case  of  testing 
her  power,  I  still  trust  the  distinctness  and  precision 
of  her  statement  for  one  member  of  the  comparison. 
The  validity  of  memory  is  more  easily  judged  than  that 
of  most  of  our  intuitive  powers ;  and  the  fact  that  in  so 
many  cases  it  seems  so  signally  to  fail,  may  appear  to 
cast  some  suspicion  on  our  other  intuitive  faculties.  As 
nothing  can  be  more  destructive  to  faith  in  human 
knowledge  than  a  want  of  trust  in  the  original  and 
unverified  action  of  the  mind,  it  is  important  to  see 
that  the  uncertain  action  of  memory  does  not  imply 
similar  uncertainty  in  the  testimony  of  kindred  faculties. 

The  chief  fault  of  memory  is  negative  —  that  it  does 
not  retain  the  matter  intrusted  to  it ;  but  this  does  not 
invalidate  its  own  positive  testimony,  much  less  the 
positive  testimony  of  other  powers. 

Again,  the  results  of  memory  are  readily  confounded 
with  those  of  other  faculties  —  of  imagination,  of  reason- 
ing. The  partial  premises  which  memory  has  actually 
given  we  complete  from  our  fancy,  or  by  the  conclu- 
sions of  the  judgment.  The  whole  is  then  stored  in  the 
mind,  and  afterward  reported  by  memory,  and  on  the 


ARGUMENTS. 

authority  of  memory;  a  portion  —  that  furnished  by 
imagination  or  inference  —  is  found  false.  Here  the 
falsification  of  memory  is  apparent,  not  real.  There  has 
not  been  a  just  separation  of  the  mind's  action ;  and 
if  this  separation  should  have  taken  place  by  memory, 
her  failure  to  make  it  is  a  defective  assertion  rather  than 
a  false  assertion.  Much  which  seems  to  be  erroneous 
is  simply  defective.  That  we  are  compelled  to  define 
closely  and  carefully  the  safe  limits  of  memory,  we  are 
ready  to  admit,  and  are  quite  willing  to  carry  the  asser- 
tion over  with  its  whole  force  to  the  other  intuitive 
faculties  ;  but  that  within  these  limits  they  are  not  each 
and  all  perfectly  reliable,  cannot  be  admitted.  That 
these  limitations  should  be  numerous  in  the  case  of 
memory  is  not  surprising,  since  we  have  here  so  many 
concurrent  sources  of  certainty. 

A  fourth  and  most  important  intuitive  faculty  is  that 
of  the  reason.  By  the  term  we  designate  the  power 
which  gives  us  the  regulative  ideas  of  knowledge. 
Things  are  known  only  as  they  are  known  in  certain 
relations — in  their  arrangement  in  space,  in  their  order 
m  time,  in  the  connection  of  cause  and  effect.  The 
regulative  ideas  of  space,  time,  cause,  by  which  we 
arrange  impressions  into  knowledge,  are  given  us  di- 
rectly by  the  mind,  are  perceived  at  once  by  the  reason 
in  the  appropriate  phenomena.  These  regulative  ideas 


f>8  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

are  those  of  existence,  resemblance,  space,  number,  time, 
cause,  consciousness,  beauty,  right,  freedom,  the  infinite. 
Under  some  of  these,  as  that  of  space,  are  included 
many  subordinate  intuitions  —  the  axioms  of  geometry. 
These  the  mind  apprehends  without  proof. 

The  chief  fallacies  of  this  form  of  proof  are  mistak- 
ing the  results  of  reflection  or  association  for  those  of 
intuition,  or  overlooking  the  conditions  of  the  safe  action 
of  our  intuitive  faculties.  The  mind  interested  in  its 
own  movement,  in  the  parade  of  argument,  gives  more 
attention  to  rationative  than  to  intuitive  proof.  As, 
however,  the  latter  is  the  foundation  of  the  former,  it 
must  evidently  furnish  us  just  premises,  before  the  sim- 
ply logical,  deductive  process  can  be  safely  instituted. 
The  more  rigid  this  movement  of  mind,  the  more  cer- 
tainly does  it  elaborate  error,  unless  it  first  freely  ac- 
cepts as  premises  all  the  data  furnished  by  intuition. 

The  second  source  of  proof  is  experience.  Experi- 
ence acts  only  on  the  facts  furnished  by  the  intuitions. 
The  phenomena  presented  are  dwelt  upon  by  the  mind, 
till  their  resemblances  and  connections  are  seen  and 
stated  in  general  terms.  Each  object  is  to  the  eye 
individual;  and  named,  the  name  is  a  proper  noun. 
When,  however,  other  objects  are  seen  closely  to  resem- 
ble it,  and  this  fact  is  marked  by  the  application  to 
them  of  the  same  name,  the  word  becomes  a  common 


ARGUMENTS.  69 

noun,  and  contains  a  first  truth  of  experience.  The 
mind  thus  proceeds  through  the  innumerable  objects  of 
the  external  and  the  internal  world,  and  groups  them 
in  classes  according  to  permanent  resemblances,  con- 
stantly transforming  its  proper  into  common  nouns, 
and  greatly  multiplying  the  latter.  Each  name  of  a 
class  contains  a  fact  of  experience,  and  language  be- 
comes the  storehouse  of  knowledge.  Scientific  knowl- 
edge differs  from  popular  speech  only  in  the  more  fun- 
damental and  connected  character  of  the  resemblances 
on  which  it  proceeds.  A  term  of  scientific  classification 
is  part  of  a  system  designating  not  merely  one  kind  of 
agreement,  but  constituting  the  complement  of  other 
terms  by  which  the  interconnections  of  an  entire  depart- 
ment are  noted.  A  first  product  of  experience  is  the 
application  to  agreeing  things  of  common  nouns ;  a  more 
mature  product,  their  scientific  classification. 

Things  agree  not  only  in  appearances,  but  also  in 
their  action  one  upon  another.  To  mark  this  agree- 
ment, and  thus  learn  the  laws  of  cause  and  effect  by 
wrhich  things  are  united  in  events,  and  move  on  in  an 
ever-changing  universe,  becomes  a  second  most  impor- 
tant and  more  difficult  labor  of  experience.  This  effort, 
in  its  incipient  and  rude  form,  at  once  shows  itself  in 
language,  and  verbs  expressing  some  given  action  mark 
by  their  application  the  character  of  the  event. 


70  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

Here,  again,  the  chief  difference  between  the  popular 
and  the  scientific  terms  in  which  these  truths  of  experi- 
ence are  treasured,  lies  in  the  more  accurate,  well- 
defined  agreements  on  which  the  latter  rest.  An  apple 
falls  to  the  earth,  and  gravitates  to  the  earth.  The  one 
word  marks  the  fact,  the  other  the  fact  in  its  precise 
manner  or  law.  Man,  as  he  becomes  increasingly 
thoughtful,  notes  more  and  more  the  character  of  the 
forces  at  work  about  him,  and  thus  reaches  the  exact 
truths  of  experience. 

Experience  proceeds  on  the  permanent  character  of 
nature  —  that  things  remain  in  properties  what  they  are, 
and,  as  involved  therein,  that  forces  everywhere  adhere 
to  their  fixed  laws  of  action.  From  agreement,,  there- 
fore, in  appearances  and  properties,  it  infers  sameness 
of  nature,  and  attributes  to  the  same  species  an  identity 
of  inherent  powers.  On  the  other  hand,  from  agree- 
ment of  causes,  of  governing  circumstances,  it  antici- 
pates a  similarity  of  effects.  Experience  ever  argues 
from  resemblance  —  from  similar  effects  to  identity  of 
causes,  from  identity  of  causes  to  similarity  of  effects. 

But  resemblance  has  many  degrees.  It  passes  from 
perfect  identity  through  sameness,  resemblance,  and 
analogy  into  the  most  transient  and'  accidental  agree- 
ments. From  this  fact,  great  uncertainty  attaches  to 
many  of  the  conclusions  of  experience,  and  the  substan- 


ARGUMENTS.  71 

tial  and  safe  features  of  likeness  in  every  department 
must  be  learned  by  discriminating  and  protracted  ex- 
perience within  that  department.  Not  till  observation 
itself  has  taught  us  can  we  tell  how  much  stress  to  lay 
on  the  agreement  of  plants  in  the  number  and  arrange- 
ment of  leaves ;  in  the  number  and  arrangement  of  the 
parts  of  the  flower;  in  the  form  of  the  seed  vessel. 
The  more  complex  the  effects  or  the  causes  considered, 
the  less  able  shall  we  be  to  affirm  a  complete  agreement, 
or  such  an  agreement  as  to  secure  the  safety  of  our 
argument.  Medicine,  administered  to  a  patient,  is  only 
one  among  many  and  most  active  and  efficacious  causes ; 
we  shall  trace  its  effects,  therefore,  with  great  uncer- 
tainty in  the  results,  and  cannot  conclude,  at  once,  that 
these  will  be  the  same  in  each  case. 

There  is,  hence,  often  the  semblance  of  proof  without 
any  real  strength  in  its  connections.  A  superficial  re- 
semblance is  argued  from  as  if  it  were  an  inherent 
agreement :  the  premises  include  a  likeness  at  one 
point,  while  the  conclusion  requires  it  at  quite  another : 
an  effect  which  arises  from  a  complex  state  is  attributed 
to  one  of  the  causes  at  work,  though,  for  aught  that 
appears,  this  may  be  the  least  efficient  of  them  all,  or 
even  adverse. 

A  comparison,  therefore,  becomes  a  most  open  and 
effective  way  for  the  admission  of  a  fallacy.  It  appeals 


72  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

to  experience,  carries  its  conclusions  over  with  ease  and 
directness,  does  not  challenge  criticism,  and  scarcely 
seems  to  suffer  error.  The  substitution  of  apparent 
for  real  resemblance  has  sorely  vexed  philosophy,  and 
rendered  of  no  avail  the  logic  of  the  most  acute  minds. 
This  is  well  illustrated  in  the  freedom  of  the  will.  If 
the  will  is  free,  it  is  thereby  wholly  unique,  wholly 
unlike  anything  in  nature,  and,  therefore,  can  be  ap- 
proached or  expounded  by  no  resemblance  whatsoever. 
Its  chief  characteristic  is,  by  the  supposition  of  free- 
dom, radically  diverse  from  everything  else.  To  affirm 
that  a  motive  has  influence,  and  afterward  proceed  to 
analyze  this  word  "  influence "  by  the  analogies  of  the 
physical  world,  is  of  necessity  to  destroy  the  idea  we 
are  treating.  By  comparing  influence  in  the  one  field 
of  liberty  to  influence  in  the  other  of  necessity,  we  hide 
in  the  very  word  the  notion  of  necessity,  and  afterward, 
of  course,  succeed  by  analysis  in  reaching  it.  We  con- 
ceal the  goblet  in  Benjamin's  sack,  and  then  pluck  it  out 
as  triumphant  proof  against  him. 

Of  the  second  form  of  fallacy,  in  which  resemblance 
at  one  point  is  substituted  for  resemblance  at  another, 
the  argument  turning  on  a  different  consideration  from 
that  brought  forward  in  the  premises,  an  ever-returring 
illustration  is  found  in  the  justification  of  an  action  on 
the  ground  of  its  fitness  at  some  previous  time.  Pres- 


ARGUMENTS.  73 

ent  conditions  and  relations  determine  the  tightness  of 
action.  To  justify  an  institution,  therefore,  by  com- 
paring it  with  one  previously  accepted,  is  fallacious, 
unless  we  can  also  show  an  identity  of  circumstances. 
Once  right,  always  right,  is  not  an  axiom  of  morals.  It 
precludes  the  idea  of  progress,  which  is  their  basis. 

Medicine  is  fruitful  in  examples  of  the  third  fallacy, 
confidently  expecting  from  one  cause  effects  due  to  many 
causes.  There  is  here  the  opportunity  of  a  double  error. 
The  premises  may  be  erroneous,  effects  being  referred 
to  a  given  remedy  which  do  not  belong  to  it ;  the  argu- 
ment may  be  misapplied,  there  not  being  in  the  two 
cases  an  agreement  of  efficient  circumstances.  The 
pleasing  and  effective  nature  of  comparison,  turning  the 
attention  from  the  logical  limits  of  the  argument  in- 
volved to  the  resemblance  of  familiar  objects,  should 
make  us  the  more  careful  in  scrutinizing  its  character. 

Though  the  form  of  knowledge  is  given  in  the  regula- 
tive ideas  of  the  mind,  the  contents  of  this  form,  the 
great  bulk  of  knowledge,  is  furnished  by  experience. 
What  is?  In  what  manner  is  it?  are  questions  which 
the  race,  from  the  beginning,  have  been  busy  in  answer- 
ing. This  knowledge,  accumulated  by  the  joint  efforts 
of  men,  comes  to  the  individual  testified  to  by  those  who 
have  gone  before  him,  and  the  larger  share  of  his 
knowledge  is  referable,  not  to  personal  experience,  but 
4 


74  PHILOSOPHY  OF   RHETORIC. 

to  testimony.  Testimony  is  the  great  source  of  facts 
and  principles  to  the  individual,  and  proof  is  often 
resolved  into  the  credibility  of  testimony.  This  itself 
is  determined  by  experience,  and  is  chiefly  dependent  on 
the  knowledge  and  integrity  of  the  witness,  weighed 
with  the  opportunities  he  may  have  had  for  the  one, 
and  with  the  motives  which  tend  to  sway  him  from 
the  other. 

An  easy  fallacy  of  testimony  is  confounding  facts 
with  conclusions  drawn  from  them.  For  competent 
testimony  to  the  vfirst,  actual  observation  is  all  that  is 
requisite.  Men,  though  by  no  means  equal  in  their 
power  to  observe  or  report  events,  are  so  relatively. 
The  value  of  an  opinion,  on  the  other  hand,  depends 
almost  exclusively  on  him  who  gives  it.  False  conclu- 
sions, therefore,  disguised  under  the  facts,  and  stated 
as  a  portion  of  them,  may  readily  embarrass  testimony 
and  mislead  the  judgment.  A  man  is  said  to  be  in- 
solent, to  be  proud,  to  be  angry,  to  be  drunk.  It  is  a 
question,  not  purely  of  facts,  but  of  inference  from 
words  and  actions. 

Certain  circumstances,  forming  a  chain  of  proof,  are 
to  be  given.  The  mind  may  have  already  united  them 
by  a  theory  of  its  own,  and,  if  so,  inevitably  gives  col- 
oring and  relation  to  them  according  to  its  own  explana- 
tion of  them.  In  a  science  like  mental  philosophy,  it 


ARGUMENTS.  75 

is  much  more  than  half  the  labor  to  secure  impartial 
testimony  to  naked  phenomena  of  mind.  This  error  is 
often  mingled  with  one  already  referred  to.  A  patient 
testifies  to  the  effect  of  medicine  as  if  his  statement 
were  the  explicit  delivery  of  facts,  and  not  the  most 
uncertain  of  all  opinions.  On  an  agricultural  question, 
as  the  effect  on  a  crop  of  this  or  that  mode  of  treat- 
ment,— on  a  social  question,  as  the  results  of  this  or  that 
institution,  —  it  is  most  difficult  to  secure  the  facts,  so 
enlarged,  retrenched,  and  warped  are  they  by  the  uncon- 
scious influence  of  opinion. 

Hence  is  it  that  the  mind  relies  so  much  on  the 
undesigned  coincidence  of  testimony.  The  perverting 
elements  of  interest  and  feeling  are  eliminated,  and  the 
essential  truth  of  the  statements  becomes  requisite  to 
explain  their  agreement. 

Here  appears  a  new  form  of  experience.  When  we 
know  the  causes,  we  readily  reason  from  them  to  their 
effects ;  but  when  we  are  ignorant  of  them,  or  they  are 
too  various  and  irregular  to  be  separately  estimated,  we 
yet  draw  conclusions  often  possessed  of  great  certainty. 
A  calculation  of  chances,  though  sometimes  leading  to 
results  of  little  worth  for  a  single  transaction,  may  yet 
afford  safe  guidance  as  cases  multiply. 

Accidents  assume  a  certain  equality,  preserve  a  certain 
ratio,  when  taken  in  large  numbers.  Accidents  are  not 


76  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

uncaused  events,  but  events  which  have  no  stated  cause. 
Under  given  circumstances,  on  a  large  field,  they  assume 
certain  limits.  From  these  limits  they  do  not  greatly 
vary.  If  they  were  to  vary,  either  to  increase  or  di- 
minish, it  would  imply  the  pressure  of  some  steady 
force,  securing  this  result.  The  effect  would  be  no 
longer  accidental. 

Dice  thrown  a  large  number  of  times  will  show  equal- 
ity in  the  presentation  of  the  several  faces.  If,  how- 
ever, there  was  a  steady  tendency  discoverable  to  present 
one  number,  thisv  would  be  adequate  proof  that  the  dice 
were  not  fairly  made, — that  there  was  in  them  some 
inequality  of  weight. 

In  the  accidents  by  which  property  is  destroyed,  when 
we  have  measured  the  limits  reached  by  any  one  form 
of  loss,  as  by  fire,  on  a  field  large  enough  to  include 
the  whole  range  of  chances,  we  are  sure  that  these  will 
not  be  much  overpassed  without  some  assignable,  gen- 
eral, and  steady  cause.  In  other  words,  there  is  a 
gauge  of  partial  and  fluctuating  causes,  which  experi- 
ence teaches  us  may  be  taken,  and  that  accidents,  be- 
cause they  are  accidents,  can  show  no  steady  tendency 
to  preponderate  on  the  one  side  or  the  other. 

What  is  termed  circumstantial  evidence  depends 
chiefly  on  a  calculation  of  chances.  A  dozen  things, 
which  might  with  little  difficulty  be  accounted  for  sepa- 


ARGUMENTS.  77 

rately,  together  form  a  network  of  proof  from  which 
there  is  no  escape.  The  distinct  threads  now  draw 
together,  and,  as  in  a  cord,  must  be  broken  at  once. 
On  what  supposition  shall  they  all  be  accounted  for? 
is  the  pregnant  question.  The  chances  that  one  solu- 
tion should  solve  them  all,  and  not  be  the  true  solution, 
are  as  the  chances  that  a  key  shall  open  a  complex  lock, 
and  not  be  the  key. 

In  reasoning  from  a  calculation  of  chances,  two  points 
are  of  importance :  that  the  number  of  cases  taken  be 
so  great  as  to  include  the  extreme  range  of  accident,  — 
an  entire  cycle  of  chances ;  —  and  that  in  passing  from 
one  field  to  another  there  remains  a  perfect  agreement 
in  the  known  causes  at  work.  Where  these  cannot  be 
readily  estimated,  the  measurement  of  chances  must  be 
again  taken,  so  as  to  include  them.  The  loss  by  fire 
in  cities  must  obviously  be  greater  than  in  the  country, 
and  in  one  city  than  in  another,  according  to  the  mate- 
rial employed  in  building.  But  the  amount  of  these 
differences  can  be  ascertained  only  by  independent  cal- 
culations. 

Proof,  or  evidence,  may  be  of  two  kinds  —  intui- 
tive or  ration  ative.  The  intuitive  faculties  are  the 
most  immediate  and  satisfactory  sources  of  proof. 
The  man  who  cannot  be  convinced  by  seeing,  cannot 
be  convinced  at  all;  nay,  has  lost  the  very  use  of 


78  PHILOSOPHY   OF  EHETORIC. 

those  faculties  through  which  conviction  comes.  It 
is  no  assumption  to  start  with  all  that  any  faculty 
testifies  to.  It  is  a  most  perplexing  and  impossible 
form  of  proof  to  struggle  to  establish  through  argu- 
ment what  rests  on  the  immediate  insight  of  the 
mind.  Axioms  cannot  be  proved  save  as  axioms. 
Doubt  them  as  axioms „  and  they  are  forever  lost.  That 
is  a  most  perverse  rhetoric  which  strives  to  get  lower 
than  the  foundations.  The  testimony  of  the  mind 
should  be  taken,  where  it  can  be  taken,  without  hesi- 
tancy or  distrust.'  Let  the  mind  lose  trust  in  itself,  and 
all  adroitness  of  argument  afterward  becomes,  like  the 
skill  of  an  equilibrist,  of  no  practical  value.  There  is 
no  conviction  so  deep  and  perfect  as  that  which  arises 
when  man's  moral  nature  is  directly  appealed  to,  and  the 
testimony  of  the  reason  invoked.  Every  other  witness 
is  far  off,  compared  with  conscience. 

Arguments  are  of  two  kinds — inductive  and  deductive  : 
the  differences  between  them  are  radical.  Inductive 
reasoning  proceeds  from  specific  examples  to  a  general 
principle,  inclusive  of  all  kindred  cases.  Deductive 
reasoning  evolves  from  a  general  truth  or  principle  what 
is  contained  in  it.  In  the  one  case,  the  conclusion 
reaches  beyond  the  premises ;  in  the  other,  it  is  included 
within  them.  In  induction  the  argument  rests  on  re- 
semblance, and  springs  from  experience ;  it  passes  from 


ARGUMENTS.  79 

like  to  lite,  from  what  has  been  to  what  shall  be,  ever 
assuming  the  permanent,  self-consistent  character  of 
causes.  In  deduction  the  argument  is  a  logical  evolu- 
tion of  principles  oftentimes  wholly  independent  of 
experience.  Induction  is  never,  and  can  never  be, 
demonstrative.  There  is  more  affirmed  in  the  conclu- 
sion than  is  given  in  the  premises.  With  no  insight 
into  the  nature  of  causes,  we  learn  their  effects  from 
experience,  and  under  its  guidance  anticipate  similar 
results  in  future,  without  being  able  to  establish  an 
absolute  identity,  but  only  a  more  or  less  perfect  resem- 
blance of  causes.  The  conviction,  that  the  same  cause 
will  ever  produce  the  same  effect,  is  iixiomatic,  and  does 
not,  when  involved,  destroy  the  demonstrative  character 
of  an  argument.  Induction  and  experience  fail  of  abso- 
lute proof  by  not  being  able  to  establish  identity  of 
causes,  and  by  being  constantly  compelled  to  assume 
this  on  the  ground  of  resemblances  more  or  less  perfect. 
Deductive  evidence,  on  the  other  hand,  meets  the 
conditions  of  a  complete  syllogism,  is  always  demon- 
strative in  form,  and  would  be  so  in  fact,  did  it  not 
often  start  with  principles  resting  only  on  induction. 
The  reasoning  of  mathematics  is  demonstrative,  because 
it  unfolds  what  is  contained  in  conceptions  and  axioms 
clearly  present  to  the  mind.  If,  taught  by  experience, 
we  secure  a  distinct  notion,  an  adequate  definition,  of  a 


80  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

force  in  nature,  we  may  demonstratively  unfold  its 
effects  when  assumed  as  present  under  given  conditions. 
This  is  done  in  mechanics,  in  astronomy,  and  proof 
resting  originally  on  induction  becomes  demonstrative 
through  the  simple  and  defined  character  of  the  causes 
concerned.  Deduction,  strictly,  is  always  demonstrative. 
The  argument,  if  correct,  is  adequate  from  the  given 
premises  to  absolutely  prove  the  conclusion.  If  any 
doubt  enters,  it  does  not  attach  to  the  deductive  process, 
but  to  some  of  the  steps  preparatory  to  it.  The  syllo- 
gism is  in  its  perfect  form  demonstrative,  no  matter 
what  its  contents.  All  deductive  argument  assumes  the 
perfect  form. 

Virtue  and  intelligence  secure  success. 
A.  has  virtue  and  intelligence. 
Therefore  A.  will  succeed. 

This  is  a  deductive  argument.  Success  is  evolved 
from  A.'s  virtue  and  intelligence.  No  doubt  can  enter 
between  the  premises  and  the  conclusions.  The  deduc- 
tive steps  are  just  as  demonstrative  as  those  of  mathe- 
matics. If  any  distrust  still  lingers  about  the  conclu- 
sion, it  must  arise  either  from  the  minor  premise  —  a 
disbelief  in  the  fact  of  A.'s  virtue  and  intelligence  — 
or  from  the  major  premise  —  a  doubt  of  the  correctness 


ARGUMENTS.  81 

of  the  induction,  by  which,  from  given  cases,  the  prin- 
ciple is  established. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  what  is  sometimes 
termed  moral  evidence  is  not,  in  many  of  its  forms, 
demonstrative.  The  circumstances,  however,  with 
which  it  deals,  are  not  often  so  well  known  or  estab- 
lished as  to  allow  it  to  avail  itself  of  this  fact.  In  this 
respect  it  is  like  mixed  mathematics.  A  hypothetical 
system  of  morals  can  readily  be  constructed,  demon- 
strative in  all  its  parts.  The  preacher,  at  least,  has 
quite  as  often  to  do  with  deductive  as  with  inductive 
argument  —  to  unfold  and  apply  what  is  conceded  as  to 
establish  principles.  The  lawyer  and  statesman,  on  the 
other  hand,  dealing  with  facts,  must  constantly  guide 
their  steps  by  experience,  and  rest  their  conclusions  on 
the  history  of  the  past.  The  process  is  more  often  the 
establishment  of  a  principle,  or  the  including  of  a  given 
case  under  a  principle,  than  the  deductive  unfolding  of 
the  principle  itself. 

A  chief  difficulty  in  the  reasonings  which  pertain  to 
ordinary  life,  is  a  want  of  precision  in  the  terms  em- 
ployed. Words  shift  their  force  in  the  same  connection, 
contain  more  in  the  conclusion  than  in  the  premises,, 
more  for  one  mind  than  for  another,  and  thus  the  argu- 
ment staggers  or  sinks  altogether,  from  the  fleeting 
character  of  the  floating  symbols  on  which  it  traverses 


82  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

the  tide  of  talk.  In  the  proof  above  given,  as  accurate 
as  most,  what  precisely  is  meant  by  success,  and  what 
degree  of  virtue  and  intelligence  is  requisite  to  secure 
it?  So  various  are  the  forces  which  oppose  progress,  so 
various  the  power  which  virtue  brings  against  them, 
that  the  most  which  can  be  affirmed  with  absolute  cer- 
tainty is,  that  all  degrees  of  virtue  and  intelligence  favor 
success,  and  that  any  high  degree  will  usually  secure  it. 
Life  fails  to  be  reduced  to  a  demonstration,  not  from 
the  uncertainty  of  the  connections,  the  dependences 
between  things,*  but  from  our  uncertain  hold  of  the 
things  themselves.  Definition  is  the  basis  of  demon- 
stration, and  our  ordinary  notions  are  at  masquerade, 
because  we  so  poorly  define  them.  They  elude  us; 
they  are  never  themselves ;  never  twice  alike ;  and 
have  no  false  connections,  because  they  have  no  true 
ones.  Science  is  little  more  than  accuracy,  than  defi- 
nition ;  and  where  this  can  be  reached,  argument  quickly 
approaches  absolute  proof.  In  philosophical  productions, 
where  the  precision  and  justness  of  the  thought  are 
everything,  all  must  proceed  from  the  most  clear  and 
well-defined  ideas,  and  the  laws  of  thought  become  the 
laws  of  composition.  In  oratory,  however,  the  argu- 
ment is  used,  not  presented,  and  this  fact  gives  us  some 
further  principles.  Truth  is  not  furnished  for  its  cwn 


ARGUMENTS.  \^C4t  •       ™ 

^ "~ 

sake,  but  proof  is  urged  as  the  motive  and  basis  of  just 
action. 

A  first  principle,  therefore,  is,  that  proof  should  be 
strictly  pertinent,  called  for  by  the  end  in  view.  To 
present  arguments,  however  just  in  themselves,  which 
are  not  needed  to  bring  the  will  into  action,  is  at  very 
best  a  loss  of  time,  and  usually,  therefore,  a  loss  of 
interest  and  opportunity. 

To  determine  what  is  requisite  in  argument,  we  need 
to  know  what  we  can  trust  to  the  intuitions  of  our  audi- 
ence. A  direct  appeal  to  their  own  sense  of  truth  and 
right  is,  when  first  principles  are  involved,  by  far  the 
most  efficacious  method,  both  because  this  is  the  appro- 
priate proof  of  such  principles,  and  because  it  indicates 
our  reliance  on  their  integrity  and  honesty,  and  makes 
them  cheerful  parties  to  the  conclusion.  On  the  other 
hand,  subtle  arguments  on  such  points  are  always  unsat- 
isfactory ;  the  auditor  is  thrown  into  a  cold,  critical 
state ;  and  a  spirit  of  scepticism  is  evoked,  which  will 
not  be  readily  laid. 

We  should  also  know  what  is  already  admitted  by 
those  addressed,  that  on  these  points,  if  the  argument 
is  treated  at  all,  it  may  be  in  the  most  succinct  state- 
ment. Let  it  not  seem,  for  an  instant,  that  a  question 
encumbered  with  serious  difficulties  is  to  be  handled  at 
a  safe  distance  in  its  obvious  features,  with  an  oversight 


84  PHILOSOPHY   OP   RHETORIC. 

of  its  more  perplexed  parts.  The  impression  of  bold- 
ness, directness,  and  thoroughness  of  argument  are 
worth  everything. 

It  is  also  a  preliminary  point  of  some  moment  to 
determine  with  whom  the  burden  of  proof  lies.  If  it 
rests  'with  one's  opponent,  this  fact  affords  a  just  and 
often  very  grave  advantage.  In  this-  case,  as  when  one 
defends  a  citadel,  not  to  be  vanquished  is  to  vanquish. 
After  each  unsuccessful  assault,  the  holder  is  left  in 
more  secure  possession.  It  is  a  just  advantage,  since 
it  arises  from  the  nature  of  the  case.  No  one  is  called 
on  to  prove  innocency.  The  accusation  of  guilt  must 
be  specific  and  well  established,  and  it  is  sufficient  to 
meet  it  when  presented.  One  quietly  conscious  of  in- 
tegrity will  not  be  put  on  his  defence,  will  not  entertain 
the  necessity  of  proof,  till  the  danger  becomes  distinct 
and  imminent.  Virtue  rests  on  a  silent  appeal  to  char- 
acter ;  guilt  must  be  established  by  proof. 

All  that  is,  either  as  springing  from  nature,  or  from 
the  opinions  of  men,  has  in  its  favor  the  presumption 
of  right.  Action  and  opinion,  if  changed  rationally, 
must  be  changed  for  a  reason.  Whatever  a  custom 
may  be,  therefore,  before  laying  it  aside,  or  adopting 
a  new  method,  we  justly  demand  an  adequate  motive  — 
proof  of  its  impropriety,  proof  of  the  superiority  of 
that  offered  in  its  place.  Till  this  is  given,  we  rightly 


ARGUMENTS.  85 

remain  where  we  are.  However  much  one  may  be 
haunted  with  a  vague  notion  of  the  unreliable  character 
of  the  opinions  which  education  or  accident  have  made 
his,  he  cannot  wisely  reject  them,  till,  one  by  one,  they 
have  been  satisfactorily  disproved.  It  is  more  rational  to 
content  one's  self  with  an  old  lie,  an  old  doubt,  than  it  is 
to  accept  a  new  one ;  since,  by  the  supposition,  we  have 
not  improved  our  position  by  changing  it,  and  have  therein 
acted  without  a  motive.  A  good  illustration  of  the 
advantage  afforded  by  the  burden  of  proof  resting  on 
an  adversary  is  seen  in  the  establishment  of  any  reli- 
gious form.  The  presumption  is,  that  the  form  of  any 
action,  if  not  explicitly  defined  and  enjoined,  is  unim- 
portant. Hence  the  advocates  of  any  one  form  must 
establish  it,  not  by  establishing  the  action  itself,  but  by 
the  explicit  enforcement  of  it  under  the  given  method, 
to  the  exclusion  of  every  other. 

The  burden  of  proof,  like  occupancy,  affords  an 
advantage  which  ought  not  to  be  resigned  unless  in 
view  of  easy  and  certain  success.  Once  waived,  and 
the  argument  entered  on,  it  cannot  be  readily  recovered. 
We  may  decline  to  enter  the  field  of  debate  on  the 
ground  that  it  cannot  be  claimed  of  us;  but  being 
pushed,  we  cannot  so  readily  retreat  to  the  assump- 
tion of  right 

Having  settled  what  must  be  proved  to  secure  rational 


86  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

conviction,  it  remains  to  choose  and  arrange  our  argu- 
ments. A  chief  principle  here  is,  their  careful  adapta- 
tion, in  matter  and  manner,  to  the  powers  of  the  persons 
addressed.  Arguments  are  more  often  obscure  through 
the  language  used,  than  through  any  inherent  abstruse- 
ness  of  thought.  The  educated  mind  is  more  and  more 
removed  from  the  popular  mind  in  the  form  of  its  ideas 
and  their  manner  of  expression.  Terms  used  in  a 
technical  and  limited  signification  become  not  only 
familiar  to  it,  but  the  staple  of  its  vocabulary,  and  its 
ideas  assume  a v  mode  of  expression  so  diverse  from  that 
of  ordinary  speech  as  effectually  to  perplex  the  untrained 
mind. 

Whatever  the  subject-matter,  language,  illustration, 
must  have  sole  reference  to  the  hearers.  It  cannot  be 
too  familiar  and  easy.  It  must  be  made  for  them  the 
most  perfect  and  perspicuous  medium  of  thought.  It  is 
the  skill,  the  instinct,  of  the  orator,  that  teaches  him 
where  and  how  to  find  his  audience. 

There  is  also  a  choice  in  arguments.  Not  those  most 
conclusive,  but  those  most  convincing,  are  to  be  taken. 
The  intricacy  of  a  deductive  argument  which  taxea  to 
the  utmost  the  intellect  is  highly  unfavorable  to  oratory, 
since  it  leaves  the  mind  weary,  prepared  for  rest,  not 
aroused  by  quick  flashes  of  truth  to  earnest  action. 
Comparisons  and  examples,  though  less  accurate,  are 


ARGUMENTS.  87 

much  more  efficacious  methods  of  proof.  The  audience 
is  brought  to  the  conclusion  in  the  freshness  of  its 
power,  quickened,  not  taxed,  by  thought. 

Rapidity  thus  becomes  an  important  element  of  sue 
cess.  To  dwell  long  on  arguments,  or  to  convince  by 
their  laborious  accumulation,  makes  the  way  tedious,  and 
the  hearers  are  either  exhausted  by  it  or  cease  to  follow 
it.  If  the  mind  is  to  be  set  aglow,  there  must  be  quick- 
ness of  movement ;  and  once  brought  to  the  right  point, 
it  cannot  long  be  retained  there.  Strike  while  the  iron 
is  hot,  is  a  precept  of  broad  application.  The  effort 
to  gather  up  the  details  of  an  argument  may,  by  restor- 
ing the  attention  to  particulars,  to  minutia?  of  proof,  so 
cool  the  mind  that  it  shall  become  less  and  less  pliant  to 
our  purpose.  The  exact  measure  of  rapidity  which  the 
orator  should  employ  must  depend  on  the  power  of 
the  audience.  We  cannot  move  successfully  faster, 
nor  much  slower,  than  the  minds  of  those  who  listen. 
The  attention  is  more  fixed,  and  a  stronger  effect  pro- 
duced, by  a  thorough  treatment  of  a  few  arguments  than 
by  their  multiplication.  The  uncultivated  are  especially 
impatient  of  protracted  proof.  Their  opinions  are 
formed  hastily  by  a  few  points  well  put. 

Proof  requires  impression  almost  as  much  as  matter 
less  logical.  To  evolve  an  argument,  and  urge  it  from 
many  sides  till  it  comes  to  possess  the  mind,  is  most 


88  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

essential.  The  mere  statement  of  proof  is  cold  and 
barren.  Conduct  is  not  so  wedded  to  conviction  as  this 
would  imply. 

The  arrangement  of  arguments  must  be  such  as  to 
secure  a  growth  of  impression.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
proceed  from  greater  to  less.  Nor  need  the  order  be 
exclusively  that  of  a  climax,  since  a  growth  of  convictions 
may  often  be  secured  without  this.  As  in  a  sentence, 
the  earlier  and  later  positions,  those  considerations  which 
first  invite  and  last  occupy  the  mind,  are  most  important. 
Attention  should  be  commanded  by  the  weight  of  the 
proof  brought  forward ;  and  the  mind  should  be  con- 
firmed in  its  convictions  by  an  effective,  final  point. 
Arguments  much  below  the  level  of  those  adduced  with 
them,  hardly  add  to  the  strength  of  a  cause.  The 
necessity  of  employing  them  implies  weakness,  and 
they  are  liable  to  weary  the  mind,  and  to  render  it 
suspicious. 

Arguments,  of  course,  come  early  in  the  oration. 
They  occupy  the  mind  while  it  is  yet  quiet,  and  clear 
the  way  for  rational  feeling.  No  sooner  is  the  subject 
before  the  mind,  than  it  wishes  to  know  the  ground  of 
action :  to  state  and  establish  this  becomes  the  imme- 
diate duty  of  the  speaker.  The  argumentative  and 
emotional  parts  of  discourse  are  not  so  much  distinct 
sections,  readily  separable  and  following  one  the  other, 


ARGUMENTS.  89 

as  interwoven  members  everywhere  sustaining  each 
other.  The  feeling  must  begin  to  arise  with  the  argu- 
ment, and  the  argument  can  only  close  at  the  full  tide 
of  feeling.  The  earlier  movement  is  more  exclusively 
thoughtful,  the  later  more  strikingly  impulsive;  but  the 
emotion  has  sprung  up  everywhere  in  the  track  of  truth, 
and  to  the  very  end  is  nourished  by  the  argument  to 
which  in  quick  snatches  of  conviction  it  is  ever  return- 
ing. Like  opposite  poles  in  the  electric  current,  they 
rest  on  each  other,  and  coexist  everywhere. 

Different  forms  of  oratory  stand  in  different  relations 
to  the  argument.  Pulpit  oratory  has  more  occasion  to 
enforce  and  apply  than  to  establish  truth;  the  bar  is 
chiefly  occupied  with  the  more  strict  processes  of  proof. 
The  first,  with  more  undoubted  claims,  and  less  delayed 
by  the  exigencies  of  argument,  can  bring  forward  more 
confidently  and  quickly  the  stirring  appeal,  and  press 
onward  to  the  immediate  end  of  action. 

Misled  by  this  general  conviction  of  the  goodness  of 
the  cause,  and  freed  from  attack,  the  sacred  orator  may 
become  less  cautious  of  the  soundness  of  the  considera- 
tions advanced,  and  commit  the  unpardonable  error  of 
weak  and  puerile  argument  employed  in  the  defence  of 
unmistakable  truths.  The  cause  is  thus  damaged  by 
those  who  sustain  it.  A  more  common  mistake,  resting 
on  the  conviction  of  undeniable  right,  is  the  hortatory 


90  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

form  which  discourse  often  assumes  from  the  beginning 
to  the  end.  Now,  exhortation  requires  a  basis,  if  not 
in  argument,  yet  in  presentation.  Not  till  truth  has 
been  more  vividly  brought  before  the  mind,  or  more 
broadly  unfolded,  is  it  prepared  with  any  new  energy  to 
espouse  or  obey  it.  Exhortation  is  properly  the  conclu- 
sion, not  the  body,  of  discourse.  There  are  at  this 
point  two  opposed  errors,  almost  equally  fatal,  which 
men  fall  into  according  to  their  several  characteristics  — 
a  direct  appeal  without  that  presentation  of  truth  which 
gives  it  propriety  and  power ;  a  discussion  of  principles 
without  that  enforcement  which  gives  them  value.  It  is 
only  when  the  body  of  thought  is  animated  by  fitting 
emotion,  that  we  have  a  living  product ;  only  when  the 
will  is  reached  through  the  intellect  as  well  as  the  heart, 
that  man  achieves  progress. 

As  the  truths  which  the  minister  enforces  stand  in 
various  relations,  and  are  chosen  not  in  reference  to  any 
one  mooted  question,  the  sermon  demands  and  receives 
an  application.  The  whole  armament  is  turned  upon  a 
single  point,  and  from  this  concentration  of  aim  the 
effort  receives  its  law,  and  becomes  an  oration 

The  lawyer,  on  the  other  hand,  has  constantly  occa- 
sion to  discuss  and  establish  the  ever-doubtful  conditions 
of  action,  and  can  do  nothing  rightly  till  some  basis  of 
action  has  been  found  in  fact  or  in  law.  The  plea, 


ARGUMENTS.  91 

therefore,  is  preeminently  argumentative;  and  as  proof 
is  often  difficult,  it  is  made  exhaustive,  and  every  con- 
sideration is  thrown  into  the  vacillating  balance.  Plausi- 
bility—  a  preparation  for  proof,  rather  than  proof  itself 
—  here  often  becomes  important.  Events  separately 
established  are  to  be  united  into  a  narrative,  natural  in 
all  its  connections.  The  facts  proved,  when  thus  con- 
curring, have  their  full  force,  and  the  way  of  argument 
is  made  easy.  When  the  facts  are  undoubted,  plausi- 
bility may  be  neglected ;  but  when  all  the  resources  of 
proof  are  requisite,  its  strength  cannot  be  further  taxed 
by  inherent  improbability. 

A  first  consideration  in  treating  an  opponent  are 
candor  and  fairness,  for  what  they  are  in  themselves, 
in  their  effect  on  others,  and  in  the  strength  they  imply. 
Thorough  knowledge  and  a  calm  confidence  of  success 
beget  these  qualities,  and  these  in  turn  become  their 
index.  The  irritable  acrimony,  the  assumed  contempt, 
with  which  an  adversary  is  often  treated,  are  feeble 
makeshifts,  and  evidence  of  a  mind  seeking  personal 
ends  rather  than  truth.  Conviction  is  often  readily 
secured  by  the  fairness  with  which  a  real  difficulty  is 
stated  and  removed,  when  it  could  not  possibly  be 
reached  by  any  amount  of  independent  proof.  This 
principle  is  of  broad  application,  but  is  possessed  of 


92  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

special  force  in  legal  oratory,  already  too  much  sus- 
pected of  petty  devices  and  sharp  practice. 

That  an  opponent's  arguments  should  be  met  and 
answered  at  the  proper  time  is  a  point  of  some  impor- 
tance/ To  answer  objections  at  the  outset,  whether 
urged  by  another  or  known  already  to  exist,  may  fre- 
quently consume  too  much  time,  embarrass  the  argu- 
ment, and  be  less  satisfactory  than  when  this  is  done  in 
connection  with  the  just  view  which  the  speaker  him- 
self is  to  propose.  There  are  cases,  however,  which 
will  not  admit  delay.  The  mind  is  so  occupied  by 
difficulties  as  to  be  closed  to  any  argument  till  these  are 
removed.  An  important  rule  is,  when  the  hearer  is 
preoccupied  either  by  the  arguments  of  an  adversary 
or  opinions  of  his  own,  these  must  be  in  a  measure  met, 
preparatory  to  an  independent  presentation  of  opposing 
principles.  When,  however,  the  mind  is  sufficiently 
candid  and  open  to  give  due  weight  to  what  is  urged, 
the  most  easy  and  complete  refutation  of  false  opinions 
will  be  made  in  connection  with  an  establishment  of  the 
truth.  It  then  becomes  natural  to  mark  the  lines  of 
deviation  which  error  has  taken. 

A  common  fallacy  is  to  attach  too  much  consequence 
to  the  refutation  of  a  single  argument.  As  arguments 
often  stand  alone,  it  may  be  a  point  of  little  moment 


ARGUMENTS.  93 

that  one  has  been  overthrown.  The  eclat,  howe.ver, 
which  attends  a  successful  refutation,  and  the  quick 
judgment  which  is  arrived  at,  that  remaining  consider- 
ations are  of  the  same  character,  sometimes  make  an 
unimportant  advantage  equivalent  to  a  complete  over- 
throw. The  popular  mind  judges  so  much  by  retorts, 
by  the  apparent  relations  of  parties,  as  to  render  shal- 
low adroitness  in  debate  more  than  a  match  for  awkward 
and  ponderous  strength.  Here  is  furnished  another  rea- 
son why  any  position  relatively  weak  should  not  be 
taken,  lest  its  overthrow  prove  the  signal  of  defeat. 
There  is  often  a  panic  in  discussion,  as  in  arms. 

In  debate  a  speech  does  not  stand  in  connection  with 
the  subject  and  audience  merely,  but  with  the  exigencies 
of  the  instant.  It  becomes  the  part  of  a  more  inclusive 
whole,  and  is  alone  no  longer  a  symmetrical  production. 
It  assumes  the  argument  and  passion  already  put  forth, 
and  unites  itself  to  the  movement  at  the  point  which 
these  may  have  reached.  Not  to  be  able  to  do  this 
is  to  fail. 

Argument,  the  subject  now  presented,  is  the  basis  of 
permanent  success.     No  one  can  long  succeed,  no  one 
ought    to    succeed  without    supporting   the    truth,  and 
without  its  support.     Here  lies  the  justice,  and  there- 
fore the  strength,  of  one's  cause.     All  forms  of  knowl- 


94  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

edge  are  the  sources  and  instruments  of  argument. 
It  is  by  a  broad  survey  of  real  relations  alone,  that 
one  can  discover  and  maintain  the  truth.  Ehetorical 
culture  implies  all  other  culture,  and  must  have  it. 
Nothing  is  more  superficial  than  superficial  oratory. 
Eloquence  roots  itself  in  all  knowledge,  and  only  a 
rich  soil  can  yield  a  rank,  native  growth. 


EMOTIONS.  95 


CHAPTER  m. 

EMOTIONS. 

INTERMEDIATE  between  the  intellect  and  the  will, 
in  the  line  of  action,  lie  the  emotions.  Through  these, 
desire  is  called  forth,  the  will  determined,  and  the 
whole  man  set  in  motion.  Thought  becomes  power 
only  by  the  intervention  of  feeling,  and  is  judged, 
therefore,  by  the  orator  solely  in  reference  to  the  emo- 
tions it  is  fitted  to  arouse,  and  the  relation  of  these  to 
the  end  in  view.  Neither  the  laws  of  thought  nor  of 
feeling  alone  are  considered  by  him,  but  both  in  their 
connections  with  each  other  and  with  the  will.  Thus 
only  can  all  the  complex  conditions  of  a  volition,  the 
fulness  and  completion  of  mental  activity,  be  reached. 
Oratory  is  the  dynamics  of  mind.  It  contemplates  it 
aroused  and  active,  and  studies  the  laws  of  the  forces 
which  then  control  it. 

A  first  condition  of  easy  and  perfect  success  in  arous- 
ing emotion  is  the  sympathy  of  those  who  are  to  expe- 
rience it  with  him  who  calls  it  forth.  Fire  is  kindled 
by  fire,  feeling  by  feeling.  A  cold  statement  of  appro- 


96  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

priate  truths  does  not  necessitate  warmth  of  conviction 
in  the  hearer  any  more  than  the  heaping  up  of  combus- 
tible material  secures  heat.  The  spark  of  ignition  must 
come  from  the  earnestness  of  the  speaker.  He  is  the 
fountain  of  feeling,  and  looking  with  him  at  the  sub- 
ject, the  audience  insensibly  catch  his  emotion.  Great 
dramatic  art  may  show  some  exceptions,  but  the  chief 
condition  on  which  the  power  of  the  speaker  to  make 
others  feel  deeply  will  depend,  is  depth  in  his  own 
emotions. 

But  this  feeling  cannot  be  transferred  without  that 
sympathy  which  removes  opposition,  and  leaves  the 
hearer  open  to  the  subject  presented.  It  is  by  con- 
current thinking  the  heart  is  to  be  aroused ;  and  if  each 
movement  is  arrested  by  the  barrier  of  prejudice,  each 
effort  met  with  a  counter  effort,  there  can  be  no  com- 
munity of  action. 

The  opinion  which  the  audience  entertain  of  the 
speaker  thus  becomes  an  important  consideration,  since 
by  it  the  way  of  influence  is  opened  or  closed.  It  may 
be  said  that  justice  requires  that  beliefs  should  be 
separated  from  persons,  and  judged  on  their  own  ab- 
stract merit.  However  true  this  may  be  in  given 
instances,  the  mass  of  conclusions  are  not  so  reached. 
Persons  and  opinions  are  identified,  and  views  are 
greatly  prejudiced  or  promoted  by  the  character  of  those 


EMOTIONS.  97 

who  hold  them.  This  is  unavoidable,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  not  undesirable.  Complex  questions  must,  in  the 
bustle  of  life,  be  settled,  not  always  by  considerations 
truly  fundamental  and  carefully  considered,  but  often 
also  by  superficial  marks  and  tendencies  more  quickly 
reached.  Among  these  secondary  indications  of  the 
character  of  opinions,  few  are  more  reliable  than  the 
purposes  and  influence  of  those  who  sustain  them.  One 
can  often  decide  by  these  when  not  able  to  form  a  well- 
balanced  opinion  on  the  case  itself.  It  is  in  vain  to 
try  to  rob  men  of  this  quick  and  generally  just  method 
of  judging  measures.  To  distrust  the  man,  and  trust 
his  schemes,  is  too  nice  an  equipoise  of  mind  for 
most  purposes,  or  most  men.  The  agent  gives  char- 
acter to  the  agency,  and  becomes  its  efficient  moral 
force. 

This  is  perfectly  just  so  far  as  the  person  seeking  to 
exert  influence  is  concerned.  He  ought  to  be  held  to  a 
rigorous  account  as  to  the  method  in  which  he  has 
hitherto  employed  power,  the  opinions  he  has  advocated, 
and  the  paths  in  which  he  has  sought  to  lead  men. 
Virtue  ought  to  accumulate  strength,  vice  to  lose  it. 
Benevolence  ought  to  win  favor,  and  selfishness  to  for- 
feit it ;  integrity  to  secure  confidence,  and  trickery  to 
destroy  it.  The  momentum  and  power  of  personal 
character  are  a  most  wholesome  law  in  the  world. 
5  G 


98  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

The  points  at  which  the  character  of  the  speaker  is 
chiefly  judged  are  intelligence  and  virtue.  Of  these 
the  last  is  obviously  the  most  important.  Intelligence 
alone  only  increases  the  power  to  deceive ;  suspicion  is 
on  the  alert,  and  will  not  suffer  the  mind  to  accept  just 
reasoning,  lest  it  be  found  a  gloss  of  language.  A 
distrust  of  one's  virtue  may  lead  to  the  immediate  rejec- 
tion of  discourse ;  of  one's  intelligence,  to  a  more  care- 
ful and  scrutinizing  inquiry  into  it.  In  the  one  case, 
the  character  of  the  speaker  turns  us  from  him;  in  the 
other,  draws  us  to  him,  and  disposes  us  to  give  his 
opinions  honest  consideration.  The  admiration  which 
genius  excites,  however,  in  part  counteracts  this  ten- 
dency, and  gives  an  undue  weight  to  the  intellectual 
element  in  character. 

The  relation  of  the  speaker  to  a  sect  or  party  may 
also  be  an  occasion  of  prejudice  against  him.  Partisan 
feelings  are  stronger  and  blinder  in  the  illiterate  than  in 
the  more  intelligent.  The  one  class  rest  their  opinions 
on  conviction,  and  neither  need  nor  seek  any  firmness 
beyond  that  derived  from  views  deliberately  formed  and 
discriminatingly  held.  They  are  both  able  and  willing 
to  canvass  a  subject  whose  bearings  they  understand. 
The  other  class,  arriving  at  their  views  largely  by  acci- 
dental and  external  influences,  steady  themselves  in 
them  by  the  superinduced  obstinacy  of  party  feeling, 


[TV    II 


EMOTIONS.  99 

'  ,c 

and  do  not  venture  on  discussion  beyond  n  few  familiar 
cant  phrases,  conscious  that  their  power  is  not  here. 
Liable,  if  they  once  give  way  to  argument,  to  be  blown 
about  at  random,  they  make  it  a  first  principle  of 
honesty  and  honor  to  adhere  faithfully  to  any  party  or 
sect  with  which  caprice  or  accident  has  identified  them. 
As  change,  with  their  limited  ability  to  canvass  all  its 
motives,  would  be  capricious,  they  arm  themselves 
against  it  by  personal  and  party  obstinacy.  They  yield 
to  a  first  caprice,  and  ever  after  abjure  it.  Partisan  feel- 
ings, taking  the  place  of  deep  convictions,  are  very  strong 
with  the  ignorant.  Though  blindly  driven  by  old 
leaders,  they  do  not  readily  yield  to  new  ones.  When 
these  prejudices,  therefore,  lie  in  the  way  of  the  orator, 
they  require  skilful  treatment,  lest  in  the  outset  they 
extinguish  all  sympathy. 

Allied  to  differences  of  party  are  differences  of  doc- 
trine. Doctrine  often  assumes  so  settled  and  obdurate 
a  form  as  to  close  the  mind  to  all  opposing  considera- 
tions, and  cut  off  the  opportunity  of  conviction.  A 
creed  made  up  is  like  a  fortress  with  its  defences,  and 
cannot  be  lightly  approached.  If  it  be  the  difficult  task 
of  the  orator  to  attack  opinions  and  customs  long  estab- 
lished, a  conciliatory  and  adroit  method  is  requisite  to 
obtain  an  honest  hearing  —  a  thing  most  rare  among 
rare  things. 


100  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

The  most  important  office  of  introductions  is  that  of 
conciliation.  A  favorable  state  of  feeling  is,  if  possi- 
ble, to  be  assumed.  It  is  one  of  the  more  offensive 
forms  of  egotism  to  refer,  at  the  outset,  to  one's  personal 
relations  to  the  audience,  when  these  are  not  prominent, 
—  to  assume  the  existence  of  hostile  feeling,  when  there 
is  little  or  no  feeling.  When,  however,  either  the 
speaker  or  subject  stands  in  an  obviously  unfavorable 
light  before  the  audience,  a  conciliatory  introduction, 
winning  favor,  or  at  least  attention,  becomes  a  matter 
of  great  importance.  A  fair  hearing  for  one's  self  or 
subject  may  be  invoked,  the  generosity  and  candor 
of  the  hearer  appealed  to,  and  the  motives  which  urge 
to  a  broad  and  kind  consideration  of  all  the  points 
involved  be  pressed. 

The  general  office  of  an  introduction  is  to  secure 
concurrent  sympathetic  action  between  the  speaker  and 
listener.  When  conciliation  is  not  required,  it  may 
still  be  necessary  to  win  attention,  and  to  lead  the 
thoughts,  with  some  interest  and  expectation,  to  the 
theme.  In  proportion  as  the  subject  is  before  the 
minds  of  all,  and  has  secured  the  interest  of  all,  does 
an  introduction  become  short  and  unimportant,  since 
the  condition  of  sympathetic  action  is  already  present. 

The  qualities  in  the  speaker  which  win  interest  and 
attention  are  frankness,  earnestness,  and  self-control. 


EMOTIONS.  101 

An  undisguised  and  open  method  inspires  confidence, 
and  assures  us  of  the  honesty  of  the  speaker.  We  feel 
that  we  are  not  to  be  practised  upon,  and  may,  at  our 
ease,  listen  to  that  which  shall  be  said.  Earnestness  is 
always  pleasing,  and  especially  so  in  the  presentation  of 
opinions,  as  it  implies  confidence  in  them  and  attachment 
to  them. 

No  man  fails  to  feel  the  power  of  an  earnest  manner. 
There  is  an  honesty  in  it  which  works  conviction.  Self- 
control,  controlled  emotion,  is  always  requisite  for  the 
orator.  Men  are  not  to  be  driven  by.  wild  gusts  of 
passion,  but  to  be  urged  by  just  feelings  springing  from 
correct  views.  The  speaker  occupies  the  position  of  an 
adviser  and  guide,  and  no  one  can  direct  wisely  who 
does  not  perfectly  govern  himself.  No  burst  of  oratory 
can,  to  advantage,  pass  the  limit  of  perfect  self-control. 
The  orator  must  ever  command  the  expression,  and 
shape  it  strictly  in  view  of  the  exigencies  of  the  subject 
and  the  occasion.  It  is  not  every  theme  which  will 
admit  strong  emotion,  and  misplaced  eloquence  is 
bombast.  The  theme  must  be  the  adequate  source  of 
all  feeling  which  is  employed  in  urging  it. 

Feeling,  on  the  part  of  the  orator,  which  seems  to  the 
audience  excessive,  destroys  sympathy,  and  produces  an 
effect  quite  the  opposite  of  that  intended.  This  may 
arif3e,  not  only  from  uncontrolled  passion,  but  also  from 


102  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

the  too  great  rapidity  with  which  the  subject  sometimes 
acts  on  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  He  must  not  only 
commence  where  the  listener  is,  but  be  sure  to  keep 
with  him  through  all  the  discussion.  When  the  orator 
dissevers  himself  from  the  audience,  and  hastens  on 
under  his  own  momentum,  he  soon  becomes  a  spectacle 
to  idle  or  critical  lookers-on.  The  increments  of  mo- 
tion, as  when  an  engine  toils  at  its  load,  are  often  small 
in  oratory.  Precipitation  then  becomes  disruption  and 
failure.  In  brief,  sympathy  —  that  is,  unity  of  action 
—  must  both  be  secured  and  maintained :  when  this  is 
lost,  success  becomes  impossible 

Aside  from  the  direct  relations  of  the  speaker,  sub- 
ject, and  audience,  sympathy  may  be  increased  by  many 
incidental  methods.  The  circumstances  of  the  occasion, 
the  imagery  and  language  employed,  associated  inci- 
dents, may  furnish  means  by  which  to  arouse  and  har- 
monize the  feelings.  Quick  insight,  delicate  apprecia- 
tion, and  ready  resources  must  belong  to  the  orator,  that 
he  may  at  once  apprehend  the  exigencies  of  the  case. 
He  must  first  measure,  and  then  meet,  the  moral  state 
in  and  on  which  he  is  to  work;  and  the  most  trifling 
expedients,  when  prompted  by  the  sagacity  of  a  quick 
sympathy,  may  prepare  the  way  for  success.  All  speak- 
ing, all  personal  influence,  is  a  strife  between  different  and 
adverse  states  of  mind  as  to  which  shall  overcome  and 


EMOTIONS.  103 

displace  the  other.  The  apathy  of  the  audience  may 
overpower  the  speaker,  or  the  animation  of  the  speaker 
may  arouse  the  audience  :  the  first  result  is  dulness  ;  the 
second,  eloquence.  To  establish  at  any  related  point  a 
oneness  of  interest  and  thought,  is  a  preparation  for 
success. 

The  harmony  of  mental  action,  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  is  not  less  necessary  for  the  pleasurable  and 
powerful  movement  of  the  mind  of  the  speaker  than  for 
the  right  reception  of  what  is  said.  While  the  orator  is 
the  source  of  influence,  he  is  also  the  recipient  of  influ- 
ence. The  audience  speedily  begin  to  react  upon  him, 
and  the  processes  of  thought  commenced,  the  emotion 
aroused,  can  only  be  sustained  and  completed  when  he, 
in  full  sympathy  with  those  addressed,  feels  the  im- 
pulse of  concurrent  sentiment,  the  strength  of  growing 
emotion  and  deepening  conviction.  Nothing  is  more 
destructive  of  mental  effort  than  the  inattention  and 
indifference  of  those  for  whom  it  is  instituted.  The 
inspiration  of  thought  is  its  effectiveness.  Sympathy 
does  not  so  much  imply  the  absolute  acquiescence  of 
all  in  the  views  advanced  as  the  attention  and  interest 
of  all  —  a  simultaneous  movement  of  all  minds  under 
the  direction  of  one  toward  a  single  object. 

When  we  remember  that  the  oration  is  not  simply  an 
argument,  a  logical  process,  but  a  product  filled  with 


104  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

vitality,  through  the  vitality  of  the  speaker,  a  weighing 
out  in  overwhelming  counterpoise  the  enthusiasm  and 
convictions  of  his  soul  against  the  indifference  and  unbe- 
lief of  others,  we  see  at  once  how  great  and  exhausting 
is  the  effort,  how  the  whole  man  is  taxed  in  the  struggle, 
and  the  more  taxed  as  the  audience  becomes  larger  and 
the  oratory  complete. 

Sympathy  with  the  mental  movements  of  the  orator,  by 
which  he  is  made  the  medium  through  which  the  subject 
is  viewed  and  felt,  we  have  shown  to  be  the  condition  of 
all  emotion.  The  feelings  to  be  aroused,  and  the  methods 
by  which  they  are  excited,  demand  further  attention. 

The  emotions  have  sometimes  been  divided  with 
respect  to  their  relation  to  action  into  three  classes  :  those 
which  excite  effort,  those  which  restrain  it,  and  those 
indifferent  to  it.  This  is  not  a  permanent  division,  since 
the  same  emotion  under  different  circumstances,  may  be- 
long to  each  of  the  classes.  Fear,  ordinarily  used  to 
restrain  action,  may  almost  as  readily  call  it  forth,  or 
simply  leave  the  mind  apprehensive  without  any  explicit 
determination.  There  is,  however,  this  difference  in  the 
emotions  aroused  by  oratory  compared  with  those  elicited 
by  poetry,  that  the  former,  for  the  time  being,  have  con- 
nection with  some  definite  action,  either  tending  to  secure 
or  restrain  it ;  while  the  latter  either  occupy  the  mind  with- 
out directing  it,  or  exert  a  general  influence  not  determined 


EMOTIONS.  105 

toward  any  single  effort.  This  determination  of  feeling 
toward  a  definite  action  is  oratorical. 

The  emotions  constitutionally  strongest  in  man  are 
the  affections  which  arise  in  connection  with  his  moral 
nature.  Through  these,  he  is  most  deeply  and  justly 
influenced,  and  to  know  how  to  move  them  becomes  the 
secret  of  benign  and  permanent  persuasion.  Closely 
allied  with  the  moral  sympathies  as  motives  of  action 
are  the  tastes. 

A  second  more  constantly  and  immediately  operative 
class  of  feelings  are  those  of  self-interest.  As  they  are 
not  in  themselves  wrong,  and  only  become  so  through 
that  perverted  or  excessive  action  by  which  they  lapse 
into  passion,  they  also  afford  a  constant  means  of  per- 
suasion. Neither  at  this  nor  at  any  other  legitimate 
point  does  influence  trench  on  the  liberty  of  man.  The 
whole  career  of  a  rational  being  is  one  of  giving  and 
receiving  influence.  Almost  every  movement  of  man 
among  his  fellows  is  one  of  persuasion,  of  inducements 
offered  or  taken,  of  example  set  for  others  or  received 
from  them,  of  custom  current  by  common  enforcement, 
of  words  spoken  or  heard.  Liberty  is  not  liberty  from 
influence,  but  the  liberty  to  be  influenced  by  the  most 
numerous  and  various  considerations. 

A  third  class  of  feelings  through  which  conduct  is, 
unfortunately  too  often,  affected,  are  those  arising  from  a 
5* 


106  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

direct  appeal  to  appetite  and  passion.  To  persuasion 
accomplished  by  these  forces  we  cannot  accord  the  title 
of  eloquence,  at  least  so  far  as  it  violates  the  law  of  just 
influence,  and  binds  the  man  by  base  means  to  a  base 
purpose.  Oratory  has  nothing  to  do  with  this  class  of 
motives  save  to  reprobate  them,  as  resulting  in  that 
debasement  of  mind  which  must  ultimately  sweep  away 
all  higher  inducements  and  forms  of  action. 

The  sources  of  influence  are,  then,  the  affections,  the 
tastes,  and  interests  of  men.  If  we  are  correct  in 
affirming,  that,  constitutionally,  right  is  the  supreme 
law  enthroned  in  every  man,  the  moral  affections  become 
the  soundest,  safest  means  of  persuasion.  When  the 
effective  motive  really  relied  on  is  self-interest,  it  does 
not  follow  that  more  noble  considerations  may  be  safely 
overlooked.  When  convinced  that  action  is  right,  men 
will  push  farther  and  more  boldly  in  it,  though  this  fact 
be  with  them  only  an  ostensible  motive  covering  a  more 
selfish  impulse.  It  is  the  duty  and  advantage  of  the 
orator  to  furnish  the  best  motives,  though  they  may 
not  be  found  solely  the  efficacious  ones.  If  the  greater 
may  not  exclude  the  less,  certainly  the  less  may  not 
lead  to  an  oversight  of  the  greater.  The  oftener  and 
bolder  the  appeal  to  that  which  is  highest  in  man,  the 
firmer  and  more  legitimate  is  the  influence  established. 
When  the  question  is  one  of  interest,  with  no  obvioua 


EMOTIONS.  107 

moral  relation,  while  the  discussion  should  conform 
to  the  fact,  oratory  is  greatly  restricted  by  it.  The 
canon,  that  the  good  man  alone  is  the  orator,  has  been 
so  often  recognized  by  rhetoricians  because  of  the  supe- 
rior hold  which  virtue  gives  to  those  motives  and  emo- 
tions by  which,  under  a  divine  ordinance  in  man's 
nature,  truth  and  right  are  carried  from  mind  to  mind. 
He  who  has  no  hold  on  the  conscience  must  work  uncer- 
tainly toward  transient  and  superficial  ends.  While  not 
in  form  accepting  the  assertion  that  eloquence  is  virtue, 
we  would  say,  that  it  derives  its  life  from  virtue. 

x 

The  purpose  and  circumstances  of  the  oration  must 
define  the  emotions  called  for,  and  the  question  then 
becomes  important,  How  shall  these  be  secured?  Feel- 
ing springs  up  in  view  of  certain  objects  or  truths  fitted 
to  call  it  forth,  and  it  is,  therefore,  a  first  labor  to  pre- 
sent and  establish  these.  This  is  the  province  of  argu- 
ment, already  spoken  of,  and  the  soundness  of  this  is 
the  occasion  and  justification  of  the  emotions  excited. 
The  mind  is  most  deeply  moved  by  truth.  Fiction  acts, 
indeed,  strongly  on  the  feelings,  yet,  in  part,  because 
the  absorption  of  the  mind  in  the  narrative  leads  it  to 
overlook  its  unreality,  and  to  accept  its  creations  as  real 
personages.  When  we  wish  to  quiet  the  emotion  ex- 
cited, it  is  done  by  reverting  to  the  fact  of  the  fictitious 
character  of  the  events.  Plausibility,  naturalness,  and 


108  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

adhesion  to  the  truth  of  character  and  relations  —  the 
most  weighty  of  all  truths  — justly  give  the  novel  a  hold 
on  the  heart.  This,  in  the  rightly-governed  mind,  is  it? 
only  hold.  The  feeling  aroused  by  fiction  is  not  that  of 
oratory,  and  chiefly  because  the  subject  matter  lack? 
that  entire  truth  which  belongs  to  the  latter.  The 
novel  usually  gives  no  definite  direction  to  the  emotion 
it  excites,  and  thereby  enervates  the  voluntary  and 
active  powers.  Oratory,  resting  on  naked  truth,  calls 
the  whole  nature  into  use,  and  thus  invigorates  it. 
Suitable  facts  and  principles,  those  which  involve  the 
action  proposed,  are  the  first  and  indispensable  steps 
toward  complete  and  permanent  conversion  to  our 
purpose. 

Among  the  many  opinions  received  and  doctrines 
conceded,  comparatively  few  are  constantly  operative  on 
conduct.  To  secure  this  obedience,  there  must  be  a 
clearness  of  apprehension  and  depth  of  conviction  which 
belong  only  to  a  few  familiar  and  governing  principles. 
It  is  chiefly  for  this  reason  that  persuasion  becomes 
requisite.  Truths  are  to  be  restated  and  reestablished, 
their  consequences  traced,  their  relation  to  present  action 
seen,  and  the  fearful  force  with  which  they  shape  events 
impressed  on  the  mind.  It  is  thus  that  the  chasm  be- 
tween knowing  and  doing  is  filled.  Facts  and  prin- 
ciples are  first  proved,  and  then  enforced  by  a  survey 


EMOTIONS.  109 

of  their  relation  to  ourselves,  to  the  events  and  persons 
about  us,  to  the  future  in  its  more  immediate  and 
remote  events.  The  action  proposed  is  shown  to  spring 
from  the  case  in  hand,  and  to  be  of  importance. 

Exhortation  to  feeling,  which  does  not  supply  these 
its  conditions,  harasses  and  wearies  the  mind,  and  leaves 
it  more  dead  than  ever.  The  vividness  of  ideas  is 
largely  dependent  on  the  imagination.  Of  this  we  shall 
speak  at  a  later  point.  Much  oratorical  effort  has  for 
its  aim  to  attach  the  ideas  under  consideration  to  those 
most  familiar  and  operative  in  the  minds  of  the  audi- 
ence, and  thus  arouse  concerning  them  that  feeling 
which  secures  action. 

Here  we  see  the  gradual  growth  in  pathos  as  the 
speaker  proceeds.  The  earlier  steps  are  more  coldly 
logical,  —  a  truth  is  presented  or  established.  As  the 
thoughts  begin  to  be  occupied  with  it,  it  arouses  interest, 
and  works  conviction.  The  importance  of  its  relations 
is  then  unfolded;  it  is  made  in  familiar  imagery  to 
stand  out  as  a  governing  principle  in  conduct,  affecting 
daily  and  dear  interests.  Its  immediate  claims  on  con- 
duct are  urged,  and,  according  to  the  homely  and 
emphatic  expression,  the  truth  is  brought  home  to  the 
heart ;  and  this  is  oratory.  That  which  was  not  in  the 
mind,  or  lay  on  its  very  margin,  is  brought  into  its 
immediate  presence,  and  made,  like  the  work  of  the 


110  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

painter,  to  fill  the  canvas,  to  stand  distinctly  and  warmly 
out,  in  glowing  colors. 

A  law  of  progress  is  thus  established.  The  per- 
suasive force  steadily  increases,  till,  in  the  conclusion, 
it  is  all  gathered  up,  and  applied  to  the  purpose  in 
hand.  The  movement  of  feeling  is  not  precipitate  or 
fitful,  but  well  ordered  and  efficient,  sustained  by  truth, 
and  itself  giving  vitality  to  the  truth.  The  growth 
of  emotion,  with  and  out  of  argument,  gives  it  the 
needed  validity  and  power,  and  renders  it  in  full  force 
at  the  moment  when  it  is  to  be  employed,  when  the 
mind  passes  from  contemplation  into  action. 

When  a  weighty  impression  has  been  produced,  as  by 
an  advocate,  it  may  become  the  inquiry,  How  shall  this 
be  so  far  removed  that  the  minds  of  the  jury  may 
return  to  a  candid  rejudgment  of  the  topic  ?  Unfavor- 
able feeling  may  be  displaced  directly  or  indirectly.  It 
is  directly  displaced  by  overthrowing  the  foundations  of 
proof  on  which  it  rests ;  or,  assenting  to  the  genera] 
truth  of  the  statements,  by  pointing  out  the  untrue  or 
extravagant  consequences  which  have  been  deduced  from 
them,  and  that  conclusions  quite  the  reverse  logically 
follow ;  or  by  showing  that  the  subject  is  unimportant, 
meriting  no  immediate  attention.  Feeling  is  thus 
allayed  by  reversing  the  steps  by  which  it  has  been 
aroused.  It  may  sometimes,  however,  be  so  intense  as 


EMOTIONS.  Ill 

not  to  suffer  this  immediate  and  direct  method.  Time 
must  be  given  for  it  somewhat  to  abate.  The  mind 
must  be  diverted  to  matter  relatively  indifferent,  till, 
reverting  to  its  ordinary  state,  it  may  again  be  occu- 
pied with  a  fair  discussion  of  the  theme.  The  mind  is 
occasionally  more  readily  vacated  by  considerations  not 
wholly  pertinent,  than  by  those  which  call  forth  its 
opposition. 

There  are  two  processes  of  mind  which  are  especially 
liable  to  interfere  with  securing  and  directing  emotion. 
These  are  the  logical  and  imaginative.  The  first, 
becoming  too  severe  and  pervasive,  makes  a  sound,  but 
often  a  very  dull  and  ineffective  speaker.  The  product 
is  not  sufficiently  vital.  The  method  is  too  coolly  ana- 
lytic, too  cruelly  anatomical,  and,  while  those  who 
choose  to  attend  are  instructed,  attention  and  action  are 
not  necessitated.  The  heart  needs  to  be  more  deeply 
moved  —  claims  a  larger  part  in  the  presentation. 

The  imagination  may  also  escape  control,  and  cease 
to  serve  the  ends  of  the  orator.  In  this  case,  attention 
is  usually  gained,  but  no  practical  bent  given  to  the 
thoughts.  Interest  is  secured,  but  not  action.  This  is 
liable  to  be  the  error  of  an  orator  too  eager  for  success, 
and  not  sufficiently  occupied  with  the  subject. 

Much  popular  speaking  is  faulty  in  this  direction,  and 
relatively  valueless  for  moral  and  social  ends.  A  strong 


112  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

desire  to  reach  fully  the  given  end  is  the  great  protec- 
tion of  the  orator.  This  necessity  makes  the  advocate 
explicit  and  plain  in  what  he  says.  When  the  speaker 
must  succeed  or  the  failure  become  palpable  and  great, 
he  has  that  which  keeps  him  steadily  in  the  one  line  of 
effort:  he  neither  leaves  the  feelings  dormant,  nor 
arouses  them  to  waste  them. 


IMAGINATION  AND   MEMORY.  113 


CHAPTER    IV. 

IMAGINATION   AND   MEMORY. 

AMONG  the  instrumental  faculties  there  are  two  which 
the  orator  has  constant  occasion  skilfully  to  employ  — 
imagination  and  memory.  For  carrying  on  the  pro- 
cesses of  thought,  these  faculties  are  fundamental. 
That  the  mind  should  have  power  to  retain  and  present 
to  itself  its  conceptions  is  essential  to  all  movement  and 
clearness  of  thought.  While,  therefore,  the  imagina- 
tion and  memory  are  not  active  for  their  own  sakes, 
their  action  is  requisite  for  all  the  ulterior  ends  of  think- 
ing and  feeling. 

Imagination  is  more  frequently  employed  to  denote 
the  power  by  which,  through  memory,  we  restore  sen- 
sible phenomena,  more  especially  those  of  vision,  to 
the  mind;  or  by  which  we  construct  images  under 
kindred  forms,  subject  to  desire.  That  use  of  the  term 
in  which  it  designates,  the  presentation  by  the  mind  to 
itself  of  material  under  any  form  of  experience,  is  less 
general  and  less  immediately  applicable  to  oratory. 


114  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

The  vividness  and  force  of  composition  must  depend 
largely  on  the  skilful  use  of  imagination. 

Sensible  objects  are  most  immediate  and  strong  in 
their  hold  on  the  mind.  Our  senses  are  a  first,  con- 
stant, and  undoubted  source  of  knowledge.  Value  and 
pleasure  early  and  chiefly  attach  themselves  to  sensible 
objects :  around  these  the  associations  of  life  cluster. 
Hence  no  form  of  knowledge  is  so  full  and  determinate, 
so  immediate  in  its  hold  on  the  mind,  as  that  received 
through  the  senses.  There  is  an  effort  constantly  made 
to  present  all  tbe  difficult  matter  of  science  through 
diagrams,  models,  experiments,  and  specimens ;  since 
anything  offered  to  the  eye  is  thought  of  more  avail 
than  the  most  comprehensive  description.  That  an 
orrery  should  become  a  medium  of  apprehending  the 
solar  system  is  a  striking  fact,  showing  with  how  short 
and  weak  a  staff  the  mind  sustains  its  steps. 

A  direct  appeal  to  the  senses  is  seldom  open  to  the 
orator.  He  may  sometimes  recall  the  pictures  of  mem- 
ory, and  stir  the  mind  powerfully  through  the  image  of 
vanished  events ;  but  even  this  opportunity  is  of  rare 
occurrence.  His  chief  resources  in  removing  the  truth 
from  its  abstract  relations,  in  bringing  it  near  to  the 
mind,  are  illustration  and  resemblance  —  instances  of 
the  action  of  the  principle  in  hand,  a  kindred  relation 
of  things  in  other  departments.  In  these  the  orator 


IMAGINATION   AND   MEMORY. 


aims  chiefly  at  the  clearness  and  vivacity  which  they  im- 
part, and  needs  therefore  to  draw  his  imagery  with  apt 
and  close  agreement  from  departments  most  interesting 
to  the  audience.  The  comparison  seeks  to  avail  itself 
of  familiar  facts  to  flash  light  on  those  less  known  or 
heeded.  The  torch  is  taken  from  the  very  hand  of  the 
spectator,  and  its  blaze  cast  upon  the  object.  The 
images  of  the  imagination,  therefore,  must  not  merely 
be  in  themselves  striking  and  illustrative,  but  must 
he  drawn  from  facts  which  already  have  hold  on  the 
mind  of  the  listener.  Intimate  knowledge  of  the  habits 
of  feeling  belonging  to  the  classes  addressed  is  requisite 
to  give  the  imagination  high  power. 

It  is  the  vividness  of  the  ideas  presented  which  arouses 
emotion,  and  thus  carries  over  conviction  into  persuasion. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  imagination  plays  so  important  a 
part  in  oratory.  Truth  comes  forth  from  its  systematic 
and  logical  connections,  shows  itself  operative  in  the 
events  about  us,  and  establishes  its  claim  on  action  by 
its  harmony  with  facts,  and  by  the  many  instances  in 
which  it  has  already  proved  effective.  The  mind  sees  it 
and  presents  it,  not  chiefly  as  a  principle,  but  as  a  law 
controlling  the  phenomena  of  the  world.  Enforcing 
this  view,  and  transferring  the  mind  from  speculations  to 
facts,  many  instances  crowd  themselves  upon  the  imagi- 
nation. The  nearer  these  are  to  the  daily  experience  of 


116  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

men,  the  more  necessarily  and  successfully  is  the  topic 
urged  on  their  attention. 

It  is  emotion  in  the  speaker  which  arouses  the  imagi- 
nation and  fills  the  mind  with  imagery :  thought  can 
thus  no  longer  proceed  in  naked  statements,  but  at  once 
seeks  enforcement  by  a  retinue  of  illustrative  events. 
The  imagination  may  not  only  be  cultivated,  but  prac- 
tically directed  to  oratorical  ends  by  cherishing  the  ten- 
dency to  observe  the  resemblances  between  moral  and 
physical  things.  The  world  is  an  inexhaustible  store- 
house of  images,  and  the  mind  that  directs  its  attention 
to  them  will  be  more  and  more  able  to  discover 
them.  Since  it  is  not  sufficient,  however,  that  the 
image  in  itself  be  perfect,  but  it  must  also  be  open  to 
those  addressed,  a  sympathy  with  men,  with  those  to  be 
immediately  influenced,  is  indispensable  to  give  to  truth 
and  its  illustrations  that  pertinence  and  precision  which 
impart  to  them  their  power.  The  ministry  are  more 
open  to  failure  here  than  other  classes  of  speakers,  since, 
by  their  pursuits,  they  are  liable  to  be  more  removed 
from  men,  and  since  their  failures  are  disguised  from 
them  by  the  often  remote  and  intangible  character  of  the 
results  expected.  A  definite  end,  pressing  the  mind  and 
heart,  is  a  great  security  to  oratory.  If  all  that  is 
empty  and  worthless  instantly  shows  itself  to  be  so,  the 
rebuke  secures  the  remedy. 


IMAGINATION    AND  MEMORY.  117 

While  the  vividness  of  the  impression  made  by  the 
orator  depends  largely  on  the  imagination,  its  perma- 
nence is  due  to  its  hold  on  the  memory.  A  vivid 
impression  does  of  itself  tend,  indeed,  to  permanence; 
yet  there  are  other  distinct  considerations.  An  oration 
that  pays  no  heed  to  the  memory,  that  seeks  neither  to 
make  perfect  nor  easy  the  performance  of  its  duty,  may 
be  forcible  for  the  moment,  may  have  striking  points, 
which  may  linger  in  the  mind,  but  cannot  unite  to  secure 
a  single  and  permanent  effect.  The  mind  does  not 
readily  recall  it,  and  thus  cannot  contemplate  it  as  a 
single  effort,  strengthened  by  all  its  parts,  and  resting 
upon  them  all.  The  joint  power,  which  should  be  the 
chief  power,  of  the  oration  is  largely  lost  without  the 
free  action  of  the  memory. 

The  memory  recalls  objects  by  a  variety  of  relations, 
but  always  proceeds  on  some  definite  connection.  We 
may  restore  in  memory  the  persons  at  any  time  present 
in  an  assembly  by  the  order  in  which  they  were  seated, 
by  the  time  of  their  entrance,  or  by  the  part  which  they 
took  in  the  proceedings.  The  connections  of  place, 
time,  resemblance,  cause  and  effect,  dependence,  are 
among  the  leading  ones  employed  by  memory.  The 
more  perfect  and  complete  the  relation,  the  more  readily 
does  memory,  by  means  of  it,  bind  the  parts  together. 
A  close  logical  connection  of  members  in  a  whole,  of 


118  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

reasons  and  conclusions,  gives  this  faculty  the  greatest 
ease  of  movement.  Any  relation,  however,  which 
makes  of  the  treatment  a  chain  of  linked  ideas,  will 
impart  ease  and  certainty  to  the  mind  in  traversing  it, 
and  compactness  and  power  to  the  impression.  This 
accumulative  power  of  memory,  closely  allied  to  logi- 
cal force,  must  be  secured  in  all  thorough  and  diffi- 
cult work. 


WIT.   HUMOR,   AND   RIDICULE.  119 


CHAPTER   V. 

WIT,  HUMOR,  AND  RIDICULE. 

COMPOSITION  finds  among  its  occasional  means,  wit, 
humor,  and  ridicule.  The  best  definitions  of  wit  and 
humor  are  those  furnished  by  Sydney  Smith.  Wit  is 
eliciting  surprise  by  an  unexpected  association  of 
ideas ;  humor  is  eliciting  surprise  by  an  unexpected 
association  of  things.  Surprise  and  ideas  are  the  im- 
portant words  in  the  first ;  surprise  and  things  in  the 
second  definition.  If  any  stronger  feeling  than  surprise 
is  aroused,  the  wit  or  the  humor  disappears.  If  the 
witticism  is  profane,  to  the  religious  mind  it  loses  its 
force.  Thus  a  truly  noble  object  cannot  be  made  the 
subject  of  degrading  wit,  while  pretentious  greatness  at 
once  becomes  its  butt.  The  dandy  slipping  into  the 
ditch  is  a  humorous  object,  but  fracturing  his  limb,  be 
becomes  an  object  of  pity. 

Wit  is  distinguished  from  humor  by  pertaining  to 
ideas  rather  than  to  persons  or  things.  Wit  thus  is 
more  transient,  spends  itself  in  sudden  sallies,  while 
humor  is  more  continuous,  follows  the  narrative  in  its 


120  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

events,  and  mates  up  the  comedy  of  life.  Wit  is  more 
cutting  and  brilliant,  humor  more  mild  and  pleasing ; 
wit  more  admirable,  humor  more  laughable ;  wit  more 
to  be  feared,  humor  more  to  be  loved. 

Campbell  has  said,  with  but  partial  truth,  that  char- 
acter alone  is  the  appropriate  subject  of  humor,  and  that 
it  always  occasions  contempt.  Man,  having  more  char- 
acter than  the  objects  around  him,  can  present  more 
striking  incongruities.  Yet  Rosinante  was  scarcely  less 
an  object  of  humor  than  his  master.  That  contempt  is 
not  always  inspired  by  humor  is  shown  in  the  fact,  that 
we  so  often  strive  to  give  this  turn  to  the  narrative  of 
our  own  adventures.  Yet  humor,  like  good  nature, 
seems  to  be  thought  a  little  incompatible  with  the 
highest  dignity. 

The  resemblance  of  ideas  in  ~wit  differs  from  that  in 
comparison  in  extent.  In  the  last  case,  the  more  com- 
plete and  perfect  the  agreement  the  better ;  in  the  for- 
mer, similarity  at  one  point  should  be  attended  with 
striking  diversity  at  all  others.  It  is  this  unexpected 
union  and  quick  recoil  of  ideas  that  please  the  mind. 
A  pun  is  an  agreement  in  sound  with  different  mean- 
ings. The  mind  is  instantly  foiled  in  the  natural  com- 
pletion of  its  work.  N 

The  justice  of  the  above  definitions  is  seen  in  the 
fact  that  wit  so  soon  becomes  stale.  Surprise  quickly 


WIT,   HUMOR,   AND   RIDICULE.  121 

disappears,  and  then  the  connection  no  longer  pleases 
us.  So,  too,  retort  has  always  the  advantage  over 
attack,  since  the  latter  suffers  premeditation,  the  former 
does  not.  The  suddenness  and  aptness  of  the  junction 
enhance  the  surprise,  and  a  witticism  of  equal  intrinsic 
merit  given  in  reply  secures  the  victory.  These  defini- 
tions also  explain  our  admiration  of  wit.  It  seems  to 
indicate  great  quickness  and  breadth  of  thought,  that 
slight  connections  in  so  diverse  and  remote  objects 
should  at  once  be  seen. 

The  habit  of  mind,  however,  which  wit  cherishes,  is 
obviously  not  desirable.  Wit  turns  on  secondary  and 
trifling  relations,  not  on  fundamental  agreements.  The 
more  philosophical  our  habits  of  observation,  the  more 
carefully  and  constantly  we  note  important  resem- 
blances, the  less  shall  we  mark  or  treasure  the  trivial 
connections  of  wit.  The  movement  of  mind  from 
which  wit  springs  is  opposed  both  to  thorough  and 
serious  reflection,  and  ought  not,  therefore,  to  become 
habitual. 

Nor  is  wit  desirable  as  a  constant  accompaniment  of 
composition  or  of  conversation.  The  train  of  thought 
is  too  much  diverted  and  interrupted  by  it.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  habit  of  punning.  The  pun  demands  a 
separate  consideration  of  mere  verbal  relations.  The 
thread  of  discourse  is  for  the  instant  broken,  and  the 
6 


122  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KHETORIC. 

mind  requires  time  to  rally  and  reunite  it.  Let  diver- 
sion of  this  sort  recur  several  times,  and  the  interest 
and  attention  due  to  the  cardinal  point  are  lost,  and  the 
main  topic  is  abandoned  amid  the  percussion  of  small 
wit.  Undoubtedly,  even  the  most  serious  discourse 
can,  in  the  hands  of  a  master,  indulge  occasional  humor 
without  detriment ;  but  more  frequently  laughter  is 
secured  at  the  cost  of  conviction. 

Another  undesirable  result  of  wit,  when  constantly 
employed,  is  the  insatiable  demand  to  which  it  gives  rise. 
Men  love  to  laugh  better  than  to  think ;  and  the  moment 
they  find  one  who  can  indulge  them  in  this  respect,  they 
require  a  constant  exhibition  of  his  power,  and  transform 
him,  as  far  as  possible,  into  a  public  buffoon.  Great 
earnestness  and  strength  of  purpose  are  required  to 
resist  this  tendency.  The  power  is  rare  and  exceed- 
ingly attractive,  and  flattering  in  the  immediate  popu- 
larity it  confers.  One  who  possesses  it  is  strongly 
tempted  to  indulge  it  on  all  occasions,  more  and  more 
to  rely  upon  it,  and  thus  ultimately  becomes  a  cracker 
of  jokes. 

Notwithstanding  these  their  dangers,  wit  and  humor 
may  subserve  an  important  purpose.  One  can,  indeed, 
succeed  perfectly  without  them,  but  can  succeed  a  little 
more  readily  with  them.  To  awaken  interest,  quicken 
the  flagging  attention,  relieve  protracted  debate,  aid  an 


WIT,    HUMOR,    AND   RIDICULE.  123 

unpopular  theme,  parry  assault,  carry  home  to  the  ob- 
tusest  mind  an  argument,  and  afford  a  decent  retreat  or 
brilliant  exit,  wit  is  most  efficient. 

Ridicule  is  wit  and  humor  used  to  influence  opinion. 
This  they  can  only  do  against  the  person  who  is  their 
object.  Placed  in  an  unfavorable  and  humorous  light, 
feelings  of  contempt  or  aversion  are  aroused  toward 
him.  Ridicule  is  a  legitimate  weapon  when  employed 
against  absurdities  and  follies.  The  first  cannot  be 
exposed  by  argument,  lying  already  quite  beyond  it. 
They  can  only  be  met  by  pointing  out  the  ridiculous 
figure  they  make  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  reason. 
The  second  are  mere  idiosyncrasies,  arising  by  accident, 
half  unconsciously.  They  are  treated,  therefore,  by  ex- 
posure rather  than  by  reproof.  A  counterpoise  to  the 
force  of  habit  is  found  in  the  ridicule  to  which  they 
subject  us. 

Errors  and  faults,  on  the  other  hand,  deserve  and 
require  in  the  outset  more  grave  treatment,  to  be  cor- 
rected by  argument  and  reproof.  Truth  and  right 
afford  for  these  the  just  correction.  When  this-  remedy, 
however,  has  proved  in  whole  or  in  part  unavailing, 
they  also  may  be  lashed  with  ridicule.  Public  contempt 
drives  men  from  positions  which  they  will  not  yield 
to  argument. 

The  form  of  composition  set  apart  to  ridicule  is  satire 


124  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

This  alone  is  not  very  efficacious  in  reaching  its  end. 
An  age  will  laugh  with  its  satirists,  and  yet  burn  its 
reformers.  There  is  in  ridicule  alone  too  much  of  mere 
good-natured  humor,  or  of  personal  pique  and  misan- 
thropy, greatly  to  disturb  men.  It  requires  settled 
benevolence,  wisely,  steadily,  thoroughly  pursuing  a 
reformatory  end,  to  arouse  all  their  hate.  Satire,  as  a 
secondary  instrument,  used  with  forbearance  and  love,  or 
applied  to  the  incorrigible  enemies  of  truth,  may  serve  a 
purpose.  Irony  is  disguised  ridicule,  —  an  expression 
whose  meaning  is  the  reverse  of  what  it  seems. 


LAWS  OP  LANGUAGE.  125 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LAWS  OF  LANGUAGE. 

WE  now  come  to  speak  of  means  somewhat  more 
external,  — somewhat  less  of  the  very  essence  and  sub- 
stance of  discourse. 

In  composition,  the  material  in  which  the  product  is 
wrought  is  language.  The  skilful  and  correct  use  of 
language,  therefore,  becomes  indispensable  to  success 
in  all  forms  of  literary  effort.  We  are  not,  however, 
to  look  on  language  as  a  means  to  be  mechanically 
employed  in  expressing  a  thought  already  realized. 
The  connection  between  thought  and  language  is 
much  more  intimate  and  vital  than  this  would  imply. 
Thought  is  not  only  lodged  and  retained  in  language,  — 
its  very  existence  and  form  are  closely  connected  with 
language.  While  thinking,  as  a  constructive  power, 
precedes  language,  it  none  the  less  advances  by  means  of 
language,  as  life  by  its  organs.  Ideas  are  separated  and 
held  fast  in  connection  with  the  words  and  sentences  that 
express  them.  Thinking  is  the  union  in  propositions 
of  definite  conceptions  previously  fixed  in  words.  Every 


126  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

step  in  limitation  and  definition  is  a  step  in  language. 
The  separated  idea  is  defined  and  retained  in  its  limits 
by  a  word,  and  every  movement  of  thought  originates 
or  employs  a  word.  The  word  and  idea  measure  each 
other.  The  word  is  not  more  nor  less  accurate  than  the 
idea,  but  is  exactly  what  the  idea  has  made  it.  Its 
very  birth  was  in  the  idea  which  it  measures  and 
expresses.  This  is  strictly  true  when  the  word  is  con- 
sidered as  belonging  to  the  individual  mind  which  uses 
it;  but  when  the  same  word  is  employed  by  many,  it 
then  comes  to  have  a  more  or  less  well-defined  meaning, 
which  the  individual  thought  finds  and  accepts,  rather 
than  establishes.  Words  are  the  footprints  of  the  mind  ; 
and  though  in  a  given  case  measured  in  their  signifi- 
cance by  the  person  who  employs  them,  like  footprints 
they  are  to  mark  the  way  for  others,  and  assume  a  fixed 
position  and  outline  in  the  progress  of  thought,  which 
those  travelling  after  hit  more  or  less  accurately. 

While,  therefore,  language  is  instrumental  in  the 
mind's  action,  it  is  an  instrument  which  becomes  the 
measure  of  the  thought,  and  the  constant  organ  of  the 
power  whose  product  it  is.  Language  and  thought 
coexist  in  mutual  dependence — the  form  and  substance 
of  one  thing. 

Language  is  also  the  storehouse  of  knowledge,  and 
this  not  merely,  or  chiefly,  as  arranged  in  definite  lit- 


LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE.  127 

erary  productions,  but  in  its  words,  and  in  the  marks 
left  upon  these  of  the  labors  they  have  performed,  and 
the  changes  they  have  suffered,  in  the  service  of  thought. 

The  generalizations,  the  distinct  conceptions,  the  dis- 
covered and  defined  ideas,  forces,  and  laws  of  science, 
are  expressed  in  appropriate  terms ;  and  to  apprehend 
these  in  their  present  and  past  use,  is  to  possess  the 
history  of  science,  and  all  its  rallying  points.  Were  it 
not  that  mental  acquisitions  could  be  thus  readily  and 
securely  lodged  in  language,  the  mind  could  make  but 
little  progress.  Its  utmost  strength  would  soon  be 
demanded  to  hold  in  steady  view  the  truths  already 
realized.  The  thought  already  put  forth  within  a  given 
language,  and  treasured  by  the  words  of  that  language, 
measures  the  available  power  and  advantage  at  once 
presented  to  every  mind  which  uses  it  as  the  medium  of 
its  thinking.  Men  who  employ  different  languages  are 
possessed  of  very  diverse  facilities  for  accurate  inquiry, 
and  have  very  different  amounts  of  labor  rendered  to 
their  hand.  The  starting  point  of  thought  is  given  by 
language,  and  with  the  ideas  already  defined  therein  the 
mind  proceeds  in  its  work  of  distinction  and  discovery. 

From  the  relation  of  language  to  thought  it  will  be 
seen  at  once  that  it  cannot  be  stationary.  It  must  share 
the  fortunes  and  express  the  changes  of  intellectual 
action  so  long  as  it  remains  speech,  —  a  vehicle  of 


128  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

living  thought.  It  may,  by  circumstances,  be  thrown  out 
of  the  current  of  human  action,  and  as  a  dead  language 
remain  relatively  unchanged,  subject  chiefly  to  the  decay 
of  time.  But  so  long  as  language  is  used,  it  must  be 
modified  by  the  exigencies  of  use,  and  be  impressed  by  all 
the  changes  of  the  mental  life  of  the  nation  whose  it  is. 

These  changes  of  language  are  usually  spoken  of  as  its 
growth.  They  are  allied  to  growth  in  this  —  that  they 
take  place,  not  by  forces  external  to  the  mind,  but 
through  the  varying  phases  of  intellectual  life,  the  vital- 
izing principle  of  speech.  They  are  the  result  of  a 
living  power  acting  on  its  own  organs,  and  shaping 
them  to  its  modified  use.  These  modifications  are  also 
allied  to  growth  in  the  fact  that  they  are  unconscious. 
The  current  of  thought,  in  changing,  changes  its  banks. 
It  does  not  purpose  to  change  under  a  conscious  recog- 
nition of  its  own  exigencies,  but  the  exigency  itself 
determines  the  change,  and  is  brought  to  light  in  it. 
All  the  forces  that  act  upon  character  act  upon  lan- 
guage, and  act  on  language  through  character.  This 
is  true  of  speech  when  left  to  itself  within  its  own 
national  bounds.  When  violently  acted  on  by  a  foreign 
tongue,  the  changes  become  more  deep  and  radical,  the 
life  of  language  developing  itself  under  new  and  arbi- 
trary conditions. 

The  leading  constituents  of  a  language  are  its  vocab- 


LAWS   OP  LANGUAGE.  129 

ulary  and  its  grammar :  it  is  the  last  that  chiefly  gives 
character  to  and  defines  it. 

The  appearance  of  grammatical  laws,  of  a  system  of 
grammatical  construction,  marks  the  birth  of  a  lan- 
guage ;  any  great  modification  of  these,  its  decay. 
Only  slight  and  secondary  remodellings  of  this  frame- 
work of  speech  are  to  be  looked  for  in  its  historical 
periods.  Not  till  the  laws  of  grammar  are  settled  is 
there  any  language,  any  system  and  method ;  and  these 
established,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  secures 
their  careful  observance,  lest  speech  again  lose  its 
ground,  and  slip  into  disorder.  Grammar  is  the 
emerging  of  method,  of  order,  and  all  further  change 
is  the  slighter  movements  of  completion. 

The  period  of  bold  changes  is  half  anarchical,  and  is 
soon  brought  to  an  end  by  the  strongest  tendencies 
which  it  itself  develops. 

The  changes  which  longest  perplex  grammar,  and  most 
disguise  it,  are  phonetic.  Phonetic  changes,  arising 
from  the  coalescence  of  two  words,  or  of  a  root  and 
final  syllable,  are  the  source  ot  its  terminations ;  and 
these,  forever  on  the  tongue,  are  further  clipped,  till  little 
of  their  former  semblance  remains.  The  reduction  of 
terminations  to  their  smoothest,  easiest  forms  is  as  inev- 
itable as  the  process  which  wears  the  pebble  round. 

The  changes  of  words,  on  the  other  hand,  are  great 
6*  I 


130  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

and  constant,  accompanying  language  in  all  stages. 
These  are  the  reception  of  new  words,  the  loss  of  old 
words,  and  a  modification  in  the  meaning  of  words. 

It  is  evident,  that  in  the  progress  of  a  nation,  and 
consequent  changes  of  its  social  life,  there  must  be 
constant  occasion  for  new  words.  The  vocabulary, 
therefore,  ever  enlarges  itself,  now  on  this  side,  now  on 
that,  now  slowly,  now  rapidly,  according  as  one  or 
another  spirit  prevails  with  the  people.  Here,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  there  can  be  no  limit.  But  all  old 
words  do  not  retain  their  ground ;  some  are  displaced 
by  better  words,  some  by  new  words,  and  others,  for  an 
unrendered  reason,  drop  off — the  dead  leaves  of  a  past 
season. 

An  equally  serious  and  constant  change  is  in  the 
meaning  of  words.  There  is  a  tendency  by  which  these 
become  less  specific  and  more  general.  A  word  applied 
to  a  given  object  or  operation  passes  beyond  this  first 
use  to  objects  or  operations  closely  allied  to  it,  till, 
creeping  from  meaning  to  meaning,  it  becomes  a 
general  instead  of  a  specific  term,  or  performs  a  dozen 
distinct  offices.  Words,  like  kings,  overpass  their  pre- 
rogatives. This  is  especially  true  in  popular  speech. 
Philosophy  struggles  to  counteract  this  tendency,,  and  to 
bring  back  words  to  a  more  precise  office.  This  accu- 
racy of  thought  gives  to  its  language  a  technical  char- 


LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE.  131 

acter.  The  mediums  of  popular  and  philosophical 
thought  separate  themselves  more  and  more,  owing  to 
these  tendencies,  on  the  one  hand,  to  lose  the  specific  in 
the  general,  and,  on  the  other,  to  restore  the  specific, 
under  more  accurate  conceptions,  with  new  definitions. 

Closely  allied  to  this  enlargement  of  words  is  that 
tendency  by  which  language  becomes  less  figurative  and 
more  literal.  The  name  of  one  object  applied  to  a  sec- 
ond, on  the  ground  of  some  connection,  at  first  presents 
both  objects  and  the  bond  between  them.  By  repeated 
use,  however,  the  mind  at  length  as  readily  associates 
the  term  with  the  second  as  with  the  first  object,  and 
the  fact  and  grounfl  of  the  transfer  are  overlooked.  The 
word  has  ceased  to  be  a  trope.  Poetry  is  thus  forever 
losing  its  language,  and  is  forced  to  restore  its  imagery 
by  a  new  and  bold  application  of  terms.  It  thus 
shares  and  greatly  intensifies  the  popular  tendency,  and 
makes  the  poetic  use  of  language  strikingly  opposed  to 
its  philosophic  use.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  the  very 
laws  of  language  relax  themselves  in  poetry,  and  give  it 
an  easier  rein  than  prose.  The  philosopher  and  the 
poet  stand  at  the  two  extremes  in  the  play  of  language, 
while  the  orator  occupies  intermediate  ground,  with  the 
right  to  move  in  either  direction. 

According  to  the  prevalence  of  one  or  other  of  these 
counter  tendencies,  either  to  more  careful  analysis  and 


132  PHILOSOPHY   OF   KHETOEIC. 

limitation  in  the  use  of  words,  or  to  their  wider  application 
on  the  ground  of  remote  and  superficial  connections,  lan- 
guage becomes  clear  and  vigorous,  or  loose  and  nerveless. 

Eestraint  and  rule  in  popular  and  poetic  speech  even 
are  the  condition  of  permanent  vigor  and  vividness.  All 
the  light  that  is  struck  out  of  language  by  lawless  lib- 
erty is  sure  to  lapse  into  deeper  darkness.  A  flashy 
use  of  words  becomes,  like  a  spent  fashion,  least  of  all 
impressive.  It  not  unfrequently  happens  that  definite- 
ness  is  restored  to  a  word  by  its  exclusive  use  in  a  later 
meaning.  The  last  duty  performed  by  it,  becoming  the 
more  important,  draws  it  wholly  away  from  its  first 
office.  There  is  thus  a  change  witftout  any  necessary 
enlargement  or  restriction  of  meaning. 

The  meaning  of  words  is  also  constantly  modified  by 
changes  in  that  to  which  they  are  applied,  or  in  our 
conception  of  it.  The  terms  employed  in  philosophy 
and  religion  are  an  illustration  of  the  latter  case,  and 
«aany  of  those  used  in  morals  of  the  former.  A  writer 
;>n  mental  science  cannot  be  perfectly  understood  till 
we  know  from  what  school  of  philosophy  his  language 
comes.  Yet  more  marked  is  this  in  the  case  of  religion. 
The  words  of  any  faith  can,  in  their  religious  import, 
be  apprehended  only  by  the  interpretation  of  that  faith 
itself.  Words  applied  to  persons,  to  social  and  moral 
qualities,  will  lose  and  gain  rank  according  to  the  char- 


LAWS   OF   LANGUAGE.  133 

acter  of  those  who  receive  them.  Though  the  term  of 
praise  or  censure  may  for  a  little  affect  the  man,  he,  as 
the  stronger  of  the  two,  soon  comes  to  impart  to  it  his 
own  character.  The  Puritan  and  the  Methodist  brought 
up  these  appellatives  in  the  dignity  of  language  to  the 
point  to  which  they  themselves  had  ascended  in  the 
scale  of  worth. 

The  changes  to  which  language  is  subject  are  more 
violent  and  less  homogeneous  when  it  is  exposed  to  for- 
eign influence,  and  built  up  as  a  composite  fabric,  than 
when  developed  chiefly  from  its  own  roots,  and  in  com- 
pletion of  its  own  laws.  The  ease  and  boldness,  also, 
with  which  modifications  are  made,  are  much  greater  in 
the  earlier  than  in  the  later  history  of  a  language,  — 
while  it  remains  speech  than  after  it  has  become  the 
vehicle  of  literature.  The  laws  of  language,  as  its 
structure  grows,  tend  to  greater  authority  and  rigor; 
any  departure  from  them  is  much  more  easily  and  gen- 
erally observed  when  made  permanent  to  the  eye  in 
print,  than  when  left  to  the  detection  of  the  ear  amid 
the  careless  and  slipping  forms  of  speech.  These 
changes,  also,  become  more  and  more  destructive  of  the 
ends  and  the  integrity  of  language,  and  convert  its 
growth  into  a  perpetual  transition  from  product  to 
product,  instead  of  the  ripening  of  a  single  product. 
As  the  framework  of  a  language  assumes  form,  and 


134  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

approaches  completion,  this  movement  must  be  rela- 
tively suspended,  or  it  quickly  undoes  what  has  just 
been  accomplished. 

Each  language  possesses  its  own  words,  and  shapes 
and  arranges  them  under  its  own  laws.  What  is  the 
legislative,  the  law-giving  authority?  Use.  A  method, 
a  manner,  unconsciously  works  its  way  into  speech,  and, 
once  in  possession,  assumes  as  a  principle  of  order  the 
authority  already  tacitly  conceded.  The  most  unim- 
peachable principles  of  action  often  come  from  silent 
recognition  in  all  of  the  necessity  of  a  method,  and  from 
the  ease  and  safety  which  it  gives.  Custom,  the  com- 
pendious digest  of  the  more  or  less  lucid  experiences  of 
men,  is  a  great  source  of  law.  That  custom  which 
rules  in  language  is  termed  use. 

Use  is  not  all  use,  but  good  use ;  and  good  use  is 
present,  national,  reputable  use.  Different  classes  of 
men  have  not  equal  influence  over  language,  and,  there- 
fore, not  equal  authority  in  it.  It  is  much  more  imme- 
diately and  constantly  the  instrument  of  some  than  of 
others.  One  with  a  few  hundred  vocables  employs  lan- 
guage merely  as  a  means  of  gearing  the  wheels  of  business 
and  physical  life  ;  another,  with  many  thousand  words  in 
all  departments  of  thought,  makes  it  the  field  of  his  con- 
stant movements,  the  receptacle  of  his  labors,  and,  while 
enriched  by  it,  in  turn  enriches  it  with  oratory,  poetry, 


LAWS   OF   LANGUAGE.  135 

or  philosophy.  In  the  hands  of  the  literary  class  does 
language  chiefly  show  its  po\ver.  It  is  they  that  enlarge 
and  shape  it  into  the  efficient  and  flexible  instrument  of 
the  mind.  It  is  preeminently  their  product,  and  accu- 
mulates for  them  its  wealth.  In  turn,  therefore,  it  ren- 
ders itself  into  their  hand,  and  from  them  receives  its 
laws. 

But  language  is  a  medium,  as  well  as  an  instrument. 
It  goes  between  man  and  man,  between  the  one  and  the 
many  ;  and  that  speech  is  national  which  is  the  medium 
of  a  nation's  thought.  Hence  the  literary  man  controls 
the  nation's  tongue,  not  by  a  private,  but  by  a  public, 
use  of  it.  When,  as  a  writer  and  speaker,  he  puts  him- 
self in  communion  with  men,  in  giving  law  to  their 
thought,  he  gives  law,  also,  to  the  nation's  language. 
Those  who  most  broadly  and  frequently  make  language 
the  means  of  arousing  the  popular,  the  national,  thought 
and  feeling,  chiefly  control  it.  In  this  regard,  the  poet 
and  orator  have  more  influence  than  the  philosopher. 
Use,  then,  is  the  use  of  reputable  writers  and  speakers ; 
and  this  is  general  use.  There  may  be  many  departures 
from  it ;  but  these,  arising  from  a  class  or  section,  will  no 
one  of  them  have  the  currency  wrhich  belongs  to  good, 
to  national,  use.  It  is  the  reputation  of  authors  which 
gives  them  authority,  and  therefore  the  most  reputable 
use  will  become  national  use. 


136  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

But,  as  already  seen,  language  is  not  stationary,  and 
use  must  belong  to  the  time  which  it  rules.  It  thus  has 
the  three  characteristics  of  being  present,  national  and 
reputable. 

The  qualities  of  style  immediately  dependent  on  obe- 
dience to  use  are  purity  and  propriety.  The  first  is  the 
use  of  the  words  and  forms  only  of  the  language  em- 
ployed;  the  second,  the  employment  of  these  in  the 
meaning  belonging  to  them. 

The  question  arises,  Why  this  obedience?  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  the  indispensable  condition  of  the  exist- 
ence of  a  literature.  There  must  be  permanence  and 
stability  in  a  language  to  make  it  the  depository  of  the 
literary  wealth  of  successive  generations.  In  a  culti- 
vated period  and  race,  language  must  not  only  be  the 
intelligible  medium  of  thought  between  those  of  a  single 
generation,  but  between  successive  generations.  It  must 
have  universality  in  time  as  well  as  space.  Indeed,  the 
coveted  honor  of  literature  is  durability.  Without  this, 
the  ephemeral  success  of  wide  circulation  is  of  little  mo- 
ment. The  fulness,  richness,  and  usefulness  of  a  litera- 
ture will  depend  on  the  number  of  those  who  have  access 
to  it,  the  sympathy  by  which  it  lives  among  the  masses 
in  successive  periods,  and  becomes  the  common  recep- 
tacle and  source  of  wide-spread  influence.  But  this 
growth  and  availability  of  literature  can  only  be  found 


LAWS   OF   LANGUAGE.  137 

in  a  language  slow  to  change,  conservative  of  its  laws 
and  character.  Progress  becomes  less  destructive,  more 
restrained  and  careful,  averse  to  the  new  as  new,  and 
watchful  of  the  old.  Cultivated  periods,  under  the  in- 
stinct of  self-preservation,  that  their  labors  may  not  be 
cast  aside  in  a  single  generation  as  already  antique,  have 
attached  increasing  importance  to  obedience,  and  have 
armed  criticism  with  a  severe  authority. 

There  is,  indeed,  through  this  movement,  some  loss 
of  flexibility  and  vital  force  in  language ;  but  this  is 
more  than  compensated  by  its  stability,  the  fidelity  with 
which  it  retains  what  is  committed  to  it,  the  grand 
growing  power  with  which  it  discourses  to  the  successive 
generations  of  men. 

Such  a  language,  like  the  classic  tongues,  may 
quickly  give  way  before  the  violence  of  a  disorganized 
society,  yet  even  then  reserve  for  itself  an  enviable  life 
in  the  retreats  of  learning.  The  very  crystallization  of 
a  language,  which  makes  it  clear  and  symmetrical,  may 
make  it  fragile  under  the  blows  of  violence.  Nomadic 
speech  preserves  its  flexibility,  as  the  tribe  preserves  its 
freedom  of  emigration,  by  possessing  nothing. 

Since,  therefore,  obedience  is  the  condition  of  litera- 
ture, and  literature  is  the  consummation  of  all  literary 
labor,  it  is  neither  unexpected  nor  unreasonable  that  it 
should  be  implicitly  exacted. 


138  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

As  it  is  the  inevitable  tendency  of  language,  in  the 
progress  of  cultivation,  to  become  relatively  stationary 
and  feeble  in  its  organic  powers,  all  the  more  care  is 
requisite  in  the  reception  of  foreign  words  and  forms. 
These,  from  the  advanced  point  at  which  they  have  been 
received,  arc  sure  to  remain  more  alien,  more  anoma- 
lous, less  incorporated  into  the  language,  than  its  earlier 
acquisitions,  and  fitted  therefore  only  to  mar  its  sym- 
metry, to  perplex  its  orthography  and  orthoepy,  and 
make  it  a  rough  mosaic  of  joined  but  uncompacted  parts. 
The  symmetry  and  harmony,  and  therefore  the  ease  and 
grace,  of  speech  must,  the  moment  its  leading  features 
are  defined,  depend  on  the  care  with  which  foreign 
tendencies  and  elements  are  excluded,  and  native  and 
analogous  words  and  constructions  maintained.  The 
causes  by  which  the  one  result  or  the  other  is  reached 
are  indeed,  for  the  most  part,  beyond  the  control  of 
individuals,  and  undesigned  in  their  effects; yet  purity, 
and  the  effort  by  which  it  is  sustained  in  a  language,  are 
the  organic  force  of  symmetry  and  order  showing  itself 
against  lawless  and  ceaseless  change.  This  tendency, 
therefore,  should  be  accepted  and  cherished.  Criticism 
should  aid  and  make  way  for  the  vital  force  of  speech, 
even  if  it  can  do  no  more  than  relieve  it  from  foreign 
material  and  methods,  displacing  its  own  forms  and  in« 
capable  of  assimilation. 


LAWS   OF   LANGUAGE. 

"Not  only  do  the  permanence  and  symmetry  of  language 
call  for  obedience,  but  so  also  does  its  highest  significance. 
A  foreign  word  is  stripped  of  its  kindred.  It  does  not 
by  derivation  and  relationship  stand  in  connection  with 
a  family  of  words  by  which  it  is  expounded,  and  which, 
in  turn,  it  helps  expound.  Bereft  of  explanatory  and 
pleasing  associations,  it  remains  an  alien,  doing  but 
coldly  and  mechanically  the  task  laid  on  it.  Words 
oftentimes  do  not  suffer  transplanting  without  a  sad  loss 
of  grace  and  power.  The  awkward  pronunciation 
which  overtakes  them,  by  which  they  lose  citizenship 
at  home  without  gaining  it  abroad,  marks  this  devastat- 
ing tendency.  The  ready  intelligibility  and  expressive 
power  of  any  tongue  will  depend  chiefly  on  the  relations 
of  its  words  one  to  another,  and  the  mutual  support 
they  render.  A  word  formed  from  an  old  root  receives 
light  from  all  its  cognates,  and  is  closely  knit  to  the  lan- 
guage of  which  it  is  the  offspring.  A  self-developed 
and  homogeneous  language  can  be  mastered  on  its  own 
ground,  its  growth  having  been  the  consecutive  and 
logical  expansion  of  its  own  powers.  A  composite 
speech,  on  the  other  hand,  is  perpetually  referring  us  to 
foreign  sources,  and  is  full  of  results  due,  not  to  the 
interior  progress  and  necessities  of  national  thought,  but 
to  historical  and  extraneous  forces.  Its  growth  is  more 
political,  and  less  strictly  linguistic.  Language  thus 


140  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

loses  that  transparency  which  it  possesses  when  per- 
meated through  and  through  by  a  few  leading  ideas  and 
native  roots.  Permanence,  symmetry,  and  intelligi- 
bility, therefore,  call  for  purity  in  speech,  and  give 
authority,  in  all  literary  and  reflecting  periods,  to  the 
law  of  use. 

But  if  this  law  is  established,  the  composition  of  the 
individual  will  suffer  much  from  its  violation.  Critical 
taste  will  be  offended,  an  appearance  of  effort  and 
affectation  belong  to  the  style,  the  obscurity  of  a  novel 

V 

phrase  burden  the  thought,  and  that  weariness  overtake 
the  reader  which  is  the  sure  result  of  any  unusual  strain 
on  words.  The  most  simple  style  is  the  most  perma- 
nently effective,  and  simplicity  is  no  more  immediately 
and  obviously  dependent  on  any  one  quality  than  on 
purity.  To  master  a  language  and  use  it  powerfully  is 
a  much  greater  achievement  than  to  eke  out  expression 
with  scraps  and  phrases  borrowed  from  all  tongues. 
The  modest  strength  of  the  one  method  is  placed  by  a 
long  remove  above  the  anxious  pedantry  of  the  other. 
No  style  can  deserve  the  high  praise  of  simplicity  which 
is  not  pure,  and  no  production  will  be  likely  to  enrich  a 
permanent  literature  which  has  not  a  good  degree  of 
this  quality. 

Use  is  established  for  the  most  part  unconsciously. 
Some  would  push  the  statement  farther,  and  put  the 


LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE.  141 

growth  of  language  wholly  beyond  the  critical  efforts  of 
those  who  employ  it.  It  is,  indeed,  only  in  the  later 
and  more  reflective  periods,  that  literary  effort  will,  of 
set  purpose,  curb  wayward  tendencies,  and  shape  its 
instrument  to  its  ends.  The  two  forces  which  control 
the  growth  of  language  are  the  exigencies  of  expression 
and  the  harmony  of  sounds.  We  must  remember  that 
speech  strives  to  communicate  thought,  to  make  it  intelli- 
gible. It  does  not,  therefore,  invent  new  methods,  which 
as  new  would  be  unknown,  and  fail  to  serve  its  purpose, 
but  it  struggles  to  enlarge  the  old,  and  adapt  them  to 
its  ends.  Certain  words  are  familiar,  certain  methods 
common  :  a  new  application  of  these,  therefore,  will  not 
be  unintelligible,  but  flash  the  thought  at  once  upon  the 
mind.  The  very  object  of  expression,  the  very  exigency 
of  intercourse,  will  tend  to  maintain  and  enlarge  the 
old  as  the  only  clear  means  of  communication.  But 
the  compounds  and  grammatical  combinations  which 
thus  arise,  and  in  the  outset  explain  themselves,  will 
soon  begin  to  be  acted  on  by  phonetic  changes,  which 
clip,  and  compact,  and  smooth  the  flow  of  sound.  In 
this  manner,  the  original  intelligibility  of  the  combina- 
tion may  be  lost ;  but  it  has  now  by  custom  acquired 
the  desired  power  of  expression,  and  no  longer  needs 
the  interpretation  of  its  roots.  Thus,  even  when  speech 
builds  up  its  fabric  in  a  significant  way,  its  forms 


142  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

ultimately  assume  an  arbitrary  appearance  through  the 
elisions  they  have  suffered  —  through  the  inevitable 
modifications  which  abbreviate  sounds  and  shape  them 
to  the  mouth  and  ear. 

Of  this  the  past  tense  in  ed  is  a  convenient  illustra- 
tion. This  termination  is  by  Miiller  referred  to  the 
auxiliary  did.  I  love  did,  I  loved. 

Though  it  is  evident,  that  use  founded  on  the  exigency 
of  expression,  of  communication,  must  tend  to  the 
familiar,  the  self-explanatory  method,  and  that  any  word 
or  form  that  should  obtain  a  majority  vote  would  thereby 
be  pressed  on  the  universal  acceptance,  yet  it  is  also 
evident,  that  on  many  points  there  might  arise,  and  for 
a  time  at  least  remain,  a  divided  use.  This  shows  itself 
more  in  words  than  in  grammatical  forms.  These 
spring  up  so  early,  and  run  so  long  a  career,  that  at 
some  point  the  balance  is  lost,  and  the  weight  of  custom 
passes  over  to  the  one  or  the  other  method.  Words,  on 
the  other  hand,  changing  constantly,  remain  for  a  time, 
in  minor  points,  as  spelling,  and  especially  pronunciation, 
unsettled. 

While  use,  then,  is  absolute,  and  to  be  set  asido  at 
one's  peril,  with  or  without  reason,  where  is  the 
authority  in  the  case  of  divided  use  ?  It  is  evident  that 
supreme  authority  is  lost ;  and  we  have  two  or  more 
methods  open  to  choice.  In  any  one  of  them  we  are 


LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE.  143 

right ;  in  none  of  them  are  we  absolutely  right,  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  others.  It  does  not  follow  from  this 
that  there  is  no  ground  of  choice  between  different 
forms  established  by  use,  —  that  we  are  always  and 
only  to  inquire  after  the  decision  of  the  majority,  and 
if  this  can  be  determined,  blindly  adhere  to  it.  We 
have  our  idea  of  symmetry  and  perfection  in  language  ; 
and  of  ease,  power,  and  precision  in  the  performance  of 
its  offices.  These  considerations  often  do  not  leave  it  a 
matter  of  indifference  what  forms  shall  be  accepted. 
Criticism,  a  conscious  exercise  of  judgment,  may,  and 
does,  come  in  to  aid  in  settling  fluctuating  use.  It 
is  certainly  irrational  to  forbid  this  exercise  of  reason, 
and  contrary  to  facts  to  assert  that  it  has  no  power.  A 
great  lexicographer,  like  Webster,  can  do  much  to  con- 
trol divided  use ;  and  every  writer,  who  for  a  reason 
adopts  a  given  form,  just  as  much  aids  in  establishing 
its  authority  as  does  he  who  unconsciously  and  carelessly 
employs  it.  The  question  is  not  whether  scholars  have 
consciously  or  unconsciously  accepted  a  spelling  or  pro- 
nunciation. It  is  equally  established  in  the  one  case  as 
in  the  other.  Men  can  be  influenced  by  reasons,  by 
example  and  instruction,  as  readily  in  this  as  in  any 
other  form  of  action.  Criticism  of  language,  therefore, 
is  neither  absurd  nor  impotent ;  vacillating  use  may  obvi- 
ously be  much  affected  by  it,  and  in  rare  cases  we  have 


144  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

no  doubt  that  a  well-established  use  might  be  first 
divided,  and  at  length  overthrown  by  it.  We  need, 
however,  always  to  bear  in  mind  that  use  is  the  law,  and 
that  he  who  rejects  any  one  of  its  commands  takes  the 
risk  of  a  reformer.  A  nation  is  to  be  persuaded  at  the 
peril  of  his  own  personal  condemnation.  It  is  not  our 
idea  of  language  that  all  its  movements  are,  like  the 
currents  of  the  wind,  only  to  be  observed,  and  never,  in 
the  least  degree,  to  be  controlled.  Much  less  do  we 
suppose,  that  it  is  open  to  every  humor  of  the  critic,  or 
wholly  pliant  in  the  hands  of  literary  men.  The  uncon- 
scious life  and  necessities  of  the  national  heart  and 
intellect  shape  it ;  but  this  heart  and  intellect  can  them- 
selves be  affected,  and  words,  like  ink  punctured  from 
a  pen-point,  be  fastened  in  the  very  tissue  of  a  living 
organism. 

Canons  of  criticism  have  been  often  given,  which  are 
fitted,  and  ought,  to  exercise  an  influence  on  literary 
men  in  the  decision  of  all  open  questions  of  use.  We 
give  the  most  important  of  them. 

The  analogy  of  a  language  should  be  followed. 

It  is  only  by  order,  rule,  that  language  becomes  lan- 
guage. To  extend  this  order  as  far  as  practicable  is 
only  to  suffer  the  organic  power  of  speech  to  show  and 
complete  itself.  Want  of  analogy  is  so  far  want  of  obe- 
dience— is  disorder.  Strenuously  to  sustain  single  anom- 


LAWS   OP   LANGUAGE.  145 

alous  forms  and  words  here  and  there,  is  to  insist  that 
use  shall  perpetually  contradict  itself.  Certainly,  use  is 
more  honored  by  making  complete  the  principle  which 
it  has  established  than  by  maintaining,  in  the  very  teeth 
of  principle,  an  exception  which  rests  on  no  reason. 
This  is  to  refuse  to  carry  out  the  most  authoritative  and 
just  tendencies  of  a  language,  —  is  to  deprive  it  of 
symmetry,  and  make  it  a  medley  of  exceptions  and 
undeveloped  principles.  TJndistinguishing  obedience 
like  this  is  irrational,  and,  when  use  is  already  divided, 
futile. 

These  considerations  are  especially  applicable  to  or- 
thography, since  the  spelling  of  a  word  is  not  decided 
by  general  use,  but  by  the  use  of  the  press.  The  eye 
marks  the  spelling ;  hence  printed  matter  alone  deter- 
mines questions  of  this  kind.  Nor  is  it  the  author  so 
much  as  the  publisher  that  decides  on  the  orthography. 
The  manuscript  is  not  followed,  but  some  standard 
which  the  publishing  house  has  adopted,  and  to  which 
all  questions  are  referred.  The  lexicographer  decides 
foi  the  printer,  and  the  printer  decides  for  the  public. 
If  this  statement  does  not  cover  all  the  facts,  it  covers 
many  of  them,  and,  in  view  of  it,  it  is  absurd  to  say 
that  a  language  cannot  be  even  greatly  affected  by 
direct,  designed  effort.  Spelling  in  the  Elizabethan 
age  was  much  at  random,  and  has  been  defined  and 
7  j 


146  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

settled  largely  through  the  influence  of  the  dictionary. 
An  early  lexicographer  must  exert  a  great  influence  on 
orthography,  and  every  dictionary  which  obtains  a  large 
circulation  carries  with  it  its  spelling. 

Many  questions  of  orthography  have  been  warmly  dis- 
cussed ;  the  one  side  striving  to  maintain  irregular  and 
wavering  use,  the  other,  to  carry  it  over  to  a  uniform 
principle.  Among  these  disputed  points  have  been  the 
substitution  of  er  for  re  in  the  few  words  which  still 
retain  the  latter  syllable ;  doubling  a  final  consonant  — 
in  such  words '  as  fulfill  —  when  preceded  by  a  vowel, 
and  taking  the  accent ;  retaining  the  single  consonant  in 
the  final  unaccented  syllable  of  the  root  when  receiving 
a  termination,  as  in  traveler. 

The  rule  of  analogy  requires  that  the  English  pronun- 
ciation of  a  word,  incorporated  from  abroad  into  the 
language,  should  be  preferred. 

A  second  canon  is  this :  In  cases  of  divided  use  the 
etymological  relations  of  a  word  should  govern  its  form. 

A  word,  itself  a  derivative,  is  often  a  root  of  other 
forms.  It  is  desirable,  therefore,  that  it  should  stand 
in  harmonious  relation  both  with  its  own  root  and  the 
word?  which  spring  from  it.  "Defense,"  therefore,  is 
preferable  orthography  to  "  defence,"  since  it  is  thus  in 
agreement  with  its  source,  dejfensio,  and  its  derivative, 
defensive. 


LAWS  OP  LANGUAGE.  147 

It  would  be  foolish  to  strive  to  correct  all  the  mis- 
takes of  etymology  which  have  become  incorporated  into 
the  language.  A  word,  like  a  tree  long  planted  and 
growing,  cannot  be  lightly  plucked  up  for  every  fault  in 
its  form.  Algebra  serves  as  good  a  turn  as  if  it  con- 
tained no  solecism.  Yet  it  does  not  follow  that  we 
should  be  heedless  of  all  errors  of  etymology,  that  our 
words  should  blunder  into  their  forms,  and  be  united  by 
no  principle  of  order  to  their  cognates.  The  intelligi- 
bility of  a  language,  and  ease  of  acquisition,  require  that 
its  growth  should  find  and  follow  a  law. 

The  words  decompound  and  unloose  give  an  in- 
stance of  faulty  etymology,  since  the  prefix  is  not  suf- 
fered to  have  its  ordinary  force ;  but  the  root  retains,  in 
spite  of  it,  its  original  meaning. 

A  third  canon  is,  Distinct  words  should,  as  far  as 
possible,  be  kept  distinct  in  form  and  meaning. 

Thus  aught  and  ought  are  separated  by  using  the 
first  exclusively  as  a  noun,  the  second  as  a  verb. 
Gauntlet,  a  glove,  and  gantlet,  a  form  of  punishment, 
should  be  separated  by  a  diverse  orthography.  It 
is  obvious  that  perspicuity  of  speech  will  be  aided  by 
this  rule.  When  the  same  word  has  distinct  offices  as 
a  verb  and  noun,  etymology  forbids  a  change  of  form. 
The  English  has  striven  in  some  degree,  though  with  no 
uniformity,  to  mark  this  distinction  by  accent,  or  by  a 


148  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

change  in  the  sound  of  a  letter.  Thus  we  have  in  the 
word  use  different  sounds  employed  to  separate  the  noun 
and  verb;  in  convict,  conduct,  present,  produce,  dif- 
ferent accent.  In  some  words,  the  more  questionable 
method  of  overlooking  analogy  and  derivation  has  been 
employed,  and  we  have  advise  and  advice;  practise, 
practice.  The  weaker  mark  of  pronunciation,  leaving 
a  clear  etymology,  seems  the  appropriate  distinction. 

We  add  a  fourth  canon  more  immediately  applicable 
to  grammar. 

When  a  divided  use  is  struggling  to  reject  an  anom- 
alous grammatical  construction,  not  to  be  referred  by 
analysis  to  any  principle  of  syntax,  such  forms  should 
be  abandoned. 

Of  this  class  are  tnese  in  the  auxiliary  "had"  :  I  had 
rather  go;  I  had  better  go ;  I  had  as  lief  go  as  not. 
In  each  of  these  cases  would  is  the  auxiliary  which  the 
forms  of  grammar  require.  The  obscure  combinations 
of  verbs  and  participles  are  already  so  many  in  English, 
and  occasion  so  much  perplexity  in  the  grammar,  and 
opacity  in  the  expression,  as  to  render  every  movement 
which  tends  to  their  reduction  desirable.  In  the  expres- 
sion, /  ought  to  have  done,  the  exigencies  of  grammar 
override  those  of  the  thought,  and  in  the  statement  of 
a  most  simple  idea  a  moral  impossibility  is  involved, 
The  house  was  being  built,  is  also  a  conventional  ex* 


LAWS   OF  LANGUAGE.  149 

pression  defined  by  custom,  not  by  the  intrinsic  force  of 
the  words.  The  house  being  built,  is  equivalent  to  the 
house  being  finished;  adding,  therefore,  the  past  tense 
of  the  neuter  verb  simply  carries  the  assertion  into  past 
time ;  and  the  expression,  The  house  was  being  built, 
should  mean  the  house  was  finished.  In  the  expression, 
It  looks  as  if  he  was  a  bad  man,  we  have  a  past  tense, 
but  not  past  time. 

The  same  want  of  grammatical  construction  is  some- 
times found  in  the  pronoun.  "  Whom  do  men  say  that 
I  am?"  "Satan,  than  whom  none  higher  sat."  In 
each  of  these  examples  a  substitution  of  who  removes  the 
anomaly  without  marring  the  thought,  and  should  there- 
fore be  preferred. 

A  fifth  canon  pertains  to  the  meaning  of  words. 

Certain  phrases  gain  a  conventional  force  aside  from 
their  ordinary  meaning,  or  involve  a  contradictory  idea. 
These  should  be  discarded. 

Most  of  them  are  ephemeral  forms  current  in  conver- 
sation, more  rarely  finding  their  way  into  print,  like  the 
following :  To  play  out,  to  use  up,  the  game's  up,  first 
best,  dance  attendance. 

It  is  strange  how  much  conversation  can  be  made  to 
flow  in  a  few  favorite  phrases  like  these.  In  their  origin 
giving  to  speech  a  racy  character,  they  often,  in  the  end, 


150  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

rob  it  of  all  freshness  and  value,  and  make  it  a  dexter- 
ous transfer  of  pert  phrases,  the  speaker  losing  sight  of 
the  barrenness  of  his  thought  in  the  smartness  of  the 
expression.  As  many  of  these  forms  as  will  die  should 
be  suffered  to  die.  Their  first  and  only  merit  lay  in 
their  novelty,  and  living  on  they  fill  speech  with  lazy, 
slouching,  slang  phrases,  irksome  in  conversation,  and 
wholly  intolerable  in  composition.  Some  circumstances 
seem  especially  favorable  to  generate  and  multiply  these 
insects  of  speech,  which  buzz  in  the  ear,  occupying  the 
attention  without  instructing  the  mind,  and,  with  their 
affected  smartness,  put  sober  thought  sadly  out  of  coun- 
tenance. Among  students  in  colleges  quite  a  share  of 
language  is  sometimes  made  up  of  a  local  phraseology 
utterly  worthless,  a  jargon  barbarous  to  every  one  but 
themselves,  and  unworthy  of  the  ingenuity  with  which 
it  is  enlarged  and  employed.  One  may  be  a  great  pro- 
ficient in  the  phrases  which  accumulate  in  any  clique, 
class,  or  department,  a  few  of  which  escape  and  fly  at 
large,  and  not  only  be  very  ignorant  of  English,  but, 
for  that  very  reason,  the  more  ignorant  of  it,  and  un- 
able to  wield  it. 

Of  those  expressions  which  give  a  meaning  contra- 
dictory, the  three  first  may  be  given  as  an  illustration. 
The  first  three  is  the  preferable  form.  Not  every  sol- 


LAWS   OF   LANGUAGE.  151 

ecism,  however,  is  inadmissible.  A  tivo  inch  plank,  a 
ten  foot  pole,  are  current,  and  almost  inevitable,  forms 
of  speech. 

The  violations  of  purity  are  three  :  barbarism,  sol- 
ecism, and  impropriety.  A  conflict  in  language  is 
always  liable  to  spring  up  between  the  grammarians, 
whose  province  is  one  of  rules  and  who  delight  in  their 
extension,  and  the  vigorous  writers,  whose  province  is 
that  of  ideas  and  who  delight  in  freedom  and  variety. 
We  are  to  remember  that  authority  belongs  to  the  sec- 
ond class  and  not  to  the  first.  Language  is  not  made 
for  its  rules,  but  its  rules  grow  out  of  the  fitness  and 
clearness  with  which  it  reaches  the  ends  of  expression 
and  influence. 


152  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETOFJC. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BARBARISM. 

A  BARBARISM  is  the  use  of  a  word  which  does  not 
belong  to  the  language :  it  may  be  a  foreign  term,  a 
provincialism  or.  a  vulgarism,  an  obsolete  word,  or  an 
unrecognized  compound.  Of  these  forms  of  barbarism 
the  first  is  the  most  objectionable.  It  can  only  be  justi- 
fied by  necessity.  It  does  not,  indeed,  behoove  a  com- 
posite speech,  like  the  English,  to  despise  foreign  aid ; 
yet  to  be  ever  ready  to  receive  and  rely  on  it  implies 
great  weakness  in  native  resources,  and  tends  to  perpet- 
uate this  weakness.  Because  the  language  has  drawn 
without  restraint  from  foreign  sources,  it  does  not  follow 
that  it  may  continue  thus  to  draw.  Early  additions  have 
become  thoroughly  incorporated,  while  later  additions, 
suffering  little  change,  lie  as  it  were  on  the  surface,  still 
alien  to  the  tongue.  The  pedantry  and  obscurity  of  for- 
eign words  should  not  be  incurred  without  an  urgent 
reason.  An  invention,  a  manufacture,  introduced  from 
abroad,  may  appropriately  bring  with  it  its  name.  Our 
own  language  should  remain  the  adequate  medium  of 


BARBARISM.  153 

Dative  thought,   and   be  able  with  sufficient  honor  to 

christen   its    own   products,    material    and    immaterial. 

• 

While  our  goods  are  so  poor  as  to  need  the  falsehood 
of  a  foreign  label,  and  our  thoughts  so  flashy  as  to 
require  the  affectation  of  a  foreign  phrase,  this  form  of 
imitation  must  prevail  :  but  genuine  excellency  will 
make  the  most  of  itself,  and  be  contented  with  itself. 

The  second  kind  of  barbarism  arises  from  giving 
currency  to  words  restricted  to  a  province  or  a  class. 
Any  language  spoken  over  a  wide  territory  will  have  a 
partially  divided  use,  forms  gaining  currency  in  one 
province  which  are  not  recognized  in  others.  Thus 
there  arise  provincialisms,  or  words  of  local  currency. 
These  are  to  be  distinguished  from  vulgarisms,  which 
are  not  dependent  on  place,  but  are  words  and  expres- 
sions sustained  by  the  careless  and  uncultivated  against 
the  decision  of  literary  use.  The  first  are,  in  a  meas- 
ure, foreign  to  the  language ;  the  last  are  the  scum 
of  expression,  thrown  off  by  it,  or  at  least  expelled 
from  the  careful  forms  of  composition  into  conversation, 
always  more  hasty  and  heedless. 

To  accept  a  vulgarism  is  to  rescind  a  verdict  already 
rendered,  and  this  is  not  to  be  done  without  most  press- 
ing reason.  Dialects,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  a  language,  must  act  strongly  upon  it,  and 
will  always,  as  roots  of  the  main  trunk,  maintain  more 
7* 


154  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

life  than  it.  The  want  of  what  is  termed  life,  in  a 
tongue,  is  seen  in  its  immobility,  its  formal  and  critical 
correctness,  in  the  hesitancy  and  caution  with  which  it 
either  adds  to  the  old  or  modifies  it.  The  inflexible 
state  into  which  language  sets  as  it  receives  the  impress 
of  cultivation,  straitens  its  vital  power,  and  suspends 
its  growth.  The  force  which  most  counteracts  this 
tendency  is  that  of  dialects.  A  less  critical,  more  spo- 
radic, and  free  movement  takes  place  in  the  shire,  the 
province,  the  remote  colony,  or  the  distinct  kingdom ; 
and  words  and  forms  obtaining  ground  and  strength 
here,  may  ultimately  force  a  change  on  the  parent 
speech.  The  independent  development  of  distinct  na- 
tions, like  those  of  the  United  States  and  England, 
using  the  same  language,  while  it  may  be  the  occasion 
of  many  vulgarisms,  will  yet  render  the  parent  speech 
more  vital  than  if  it  were  not  subject  to  the  strain  of 
such  diverse  character  and  circumstances.  The  joints 
of  speech,  when  employed  in  so  many  and  so  widely 
different  and  unclassical  duties,  cannot  ossify. 

Provincial  and  dialectic  use,  therefore,  will  not  of 
necessity,  and  always,  give  way  to  parent  use,  but  will 
maintain  its  ground,  renew  the  stock,  and  nurse  the  life 
from  which  it  sprung. 

We  need  not  mention  the  very  many  words  furnished 
by  America  as  names  of  new  plants,  animals,  products, 


BARBARISM.  155 

and  institutions.  Aside  from  these,  many  good  words 
have  arisen,  deserving  adoption.  We  give,  as  exam- 
ples, boatable,  availability,  bread-stuff,  caucus,  bogus, 
chore,  clutter,  codding,  raft,  rafting,  mass,  mail- 
able,  lyceum,  location,  lobby,  salt-lick.  Some  of  these 
words  are  new,  others  old  with  a  new  meaning. 

Vulgarisms  originate  in  conversation  —  are  its  tropes. 
Colloquial  use  is  quite  distinct  from  literary  use.  Con- 
versation requires  a  dictionary  of  its  own,  and  good  use, 
even  with  the  educated,  maintains  but  a  lenient  and 
wavering  authority  in  this  unsettled  border  territory. 
The  chief  medium  through  which  any  of  these  vulgar- 
isms creep  into  more  considerate  literary  efforts  is  the 
newspaper  and  the  stump-speech.  Made  at  home  in 
this  open  antechamber,  they  afterward  find  their  way 
into  dignified  quarters. 

A  third  form  of  barbarism  is  the  use  of  obsolete 
words.  Present  use  is  not  opposed  to  past,  but  to 
obsolete  use.  In  the  journey  ings  of  speech,  many 
words  fall  by  the  way,  and,  having  dropped  from  the 
memory  of  man,  have  something  of  the  strangeness  and 
obscurity  of  foreign  terms.  Many  expressions  which 
pass  for  vulgarisms  are  but  old  forms  still  lingering  in 
obscure  quarters.  A  stable  literature  greatly  retards 
the  movement  by  which  words  drop  away,  or  are 
crowded  out  by  others.  The  English  Bible  has  been 


156  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

a  safe  storehouse  to  most  of  the  words  committed  to  it. 
Old  words  deserve  a  certain  regard,  and  should  not  be 
as  closely  questioned  as  new  comers. 

The  fourth  barbarism  is  the  use  of  unrecognized 
compounds.  Here  more  liberty  should  be  allowed  than 
anywhere  else ;  and  all  the  more  in  English,  since  the 
compounding  of  words  has  hitherto  been  so  little  em- 
ployed. Compound  words  have  these  advantages  over 
foreign  terms :  they  are  self-explanatory,  more  thor- 
oughly significant,  and  stand  in  closer  and  more  sym- 
metrical relations  with  the  language. 

A  tongue  that  begins  to  draw  largely  from  foreign 
sources  finds  this  so  ready  a  method  as  to  be  rarely 
forced  into  the  construction  of  compounds ;  and  thus  it 
becomes  more  and  more  composite,  more  and  more 
composed  of  distinct  and  inflexible  elements.  Its 
words,  like  stones  in  a  heap,  lie  apart,  with  no  coa- 
lescence. Thus,  often,  when  we  wish  an  adjective, 
instead  of  constructing  it  from  our  own  noun,  we  borrow 
it  from  the  kindred  Latin  noun,  and  say  calcareous  soil, 
instead  of  limy  soil. 

The  use  of  compounds  requires  regulation,  not  severe 
restriction.  Needed,  euphonious  and  analogous  com- 
pounds are  not  to  be  rejected.  When  the  place  of  the 
compound  can  be  readily  supplied  with  a  simple  word, 
it,  as  cumbersome  and  superfluous,  should  evidently  find 


BARBARISM.  157 

no  acceptance.  This  is  true  of  many  compounds  in 
self;  of  self-interest  9  in  place  of  interest,'  of  self-homi- 
cide, self-murder,  and  self-slaughter,  in  place  of  sui- 
cide. Uneuphonious  compounds,  as  well-mannered, 
well-moralized,  down-looked,  should  not  be  accepted  on 
any  weaker  plea  than  necessity.  Though  a  barbarism 
cannot  be  as  clearly  established  at  this  point  as  at  some 
others,  such  words  render  style  harsh  and  uncouth  in 
a  high  degree. 

The  most  important  consideration,  however,  in  this 
class  of  words,  is,  that  their  construction  shall  accord 
with  the  analogy  of  the  language.  Compounds  in  self 
frequently  violate  this  rule.  The  law  of  composition 
in  this  prefix  is  given  by  Campbell.  "If  the  word  be 
a  subsfantive,  the  preposition  to  be  supplied  is  commonly 
of;  if  the  passive  participle,  by;  and  if  the  active 
participle,  no  preposition  is  requisite."  Thus  we  have 
self-love,  the  love  of  one's  self;  self -condemned,  con- 
demned by  one's  self;  and  self-consuming.  Under  this 
rule,  what  shall  we  do  with  such  words  as  self-charity, 
self-importance,  self-communicative?  The  rule  is,  in- 
deed, somewhat  too  restricted,  as  shown  in  the  word 
self -consistent,  but  draws  attention  to  an  important  class 
of  errors. 

It  must  be  remembered  in  criticism,  that  language 
cannot  grow  without  barbarisms  ;  and  the  practical 


158  PHILOSOPHY  OP  EHETORIC. 

question  becomes,  At  what  point  shall  the  greatest 
liberty  be  given  to  its  expansion?  If  it  be  granted 
in  the  line  of  derivatives  and  compounds,  the  language 
becomes  more  consistent  and  self-contained  than  by  any 
other  method  of  growth. 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  159 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

SOLECISM   AND    IMPROPRIETY. 

A  SOLECISM  is  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  syntax. 
These  laws  express  the  principles  by  which  the  words 
of  a  language  are  combined  into  sentences.  There 
must  be  some  method  of  marking  the  dependence  of 
words,  one  upon  another,  in  the  expression  of  thought, 
since  a  given  thought  is  rendered  only  through  a  given 
dependence.  This  may  be  done  by  the  arbitrary  marks 
of  declension  and  conjugation,  by  particles  of  relation, 
and  by  position.  A  language  usually  employs  all  these 
methods  witn  a  preponderance  in  each  given  tongue  of 
one  or  another  of  them.  The  later  and  more  composite 
languages  steadily  forsake  the  prefix  and  termination  as 
marks  of  syntax,  and  rely  more  and  more  on  position. 
This  renders  necessary  a  correspondence  between  the 
order  of  the  sentence  and  the  inherent  connections  of 
the  thought,  and  may  rightly  be  termed  the  logical 
method.  First  comes  the  nominative,  the  subject  of 
thought ;  then,  the  affirmation ;  and  later,  the  results  and 
incidents  of  the  action  or  state.  If  the  copula  of  the 


160  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

sentence  is  an  active  verb,  we  start  with  the  agent,  and 
descend  through  the  action  to  its  object ;  if  a  passive 
verb,  we  start  with  the  object,  and  ascend  through  the 
action  to  the  agent.  In  either  case  the  order  and  con- 
nection are  strictly  logical. 

In  proportion  as  the  understanding  gained  upon  the 
passions  of  men,  it  is  evident  that  these  inherent  con- 
nections of  thought  would  more  and  more  control  the 
expression,  and  as  evident  that  the  marks  of  declension 
which  accompanied  the  more  free  and  passionate  arrange- 
ment would  become  less  and  less  necessary.  As  composite 
languages  tend  also,  in  the  conflict  of  diverse  methods, 
and  through  the  unyielding  form  of  foreign  words,  to 
lose  declension,  it  is  not  strange  that  the  two  influences 
concurring  have  so  far  stripped  the  languages  of  modern 
Europe  of  the  marks  of  syntax,  and  so  much  simplified 

A 

their  rules.  The  agreement  of  the  adjective  with  the 
noun  in  gender,  number,  and  case,  is  an  arbitrary  agree- 
ment, and  nothing  is  lost  to  the  thought,  though  some- 
thing is  to  the  freedom  of  arrangement  when  it  ceases  to 
be  marked. 

There  are  two  purposes  served  by  the  marks  of 
declension  and  conjugation.  Some  of  these  marks  are 
purely  arbitrary.  They  indicate  no  modification  of  the 
idea,  but  denote  a  grammatical  dependence,  the  same  in 
all  cases.  Of  this  sort  are  those  which  indicate  the 


SOLECISM    AND   IMPROPRIETY.  161 

dependence   of  adjectives   on  nouns ;  the  agreement  of 
verbs    and   nouns.     Simple  position   in    a   more    strict 

x, 

arrangement  is  able  fully  to  meet  the  office  of  these 
terminations,  and  to  set  them  aside  with  the  introduction 
of  nothing  in  their  place.  Another  portion  of  these 
marks  indicates  a  relation  of  a  peculiar  character,  notes 
an  additional  circumstance,  and,  thus  standing  in  an 
inherent  connection  with  the  thought,  must,  if  dispensed 
with,  be  replaced  by  some  word  performing  the  same 
office.  Of  this  sort  are  the  case  terminations  of  the 
noun.  Nouns  may  stand  in  a  great  variety  of  relation, 
one  to  another,  and  these  affixes  not  only  indicate  a  rela- 
tion, but  its  precise  character,  and  thus,  aside  from  their 
grammatical  office,  take  part  in  the  expression.  So, 
also,  the  tenses,  moods,  and  voices  of  the  verb  define 
the  character  of  the  action ;  and  if,  therefore,  the  verb 
is  stripped  of  these,  the  apparatus  of  expression  must 
elsewhere  be  enlarged  and  made  more  cumbersome. 
These  marks  are  replaced  by  prepositions,  auxiliary 
verbs,  and  more  lengthy  expressions  in  significant  terms. 
The  most  compact  and  knit  expression,  therefore,  must 
ever  belong  to  highly  inflected  languages,  since  there  is 
here  a  condensation  both  of  thought  and  of  grammatical 
mechanism  into  the  significant  terms  of  the  sentence. 

Language,    however,    is    not    pure    in    its    methods. 
Prepositions  complete  the  full  case  declensions,  and  a 

K 


162  PHILOSOPHY  OP   RHETORIC. 

tongue  like  the  English,  well  nigh  devoid  of  inflection, 
still  retains  a  few  terminations  expressing  nothing  but 
grammatical  dependence.  It  is  no  more  difficult  to  mark 
by  position  the  dependence  of  the  singular  noun  on  its 
verb  than  the  plural ;  yet  the  one  is  aided  in  the  present 
tense  by  a  full  conjugation,  while  the  other  retains  a 
single  form  in  all  the  persons. 

I  love,  We  love, 

Thou  lovest,  Ye  or  you  love, 

He  loves.  They  love. 

There  may  be  as  many  solecisms  as  principles  of 
syntax.  It  is  our  purpose  to  mark  only  a  few  of  these, 
into  which  even  good  speakers  and  writers  sometimes 
fall.  The  fundamental  link  of  the  sentence  is  the  verb. 
This  not  only  contains  the  leading  affirmation  of  the 
sentence,  and  attaches  it  to  the  subject,  but  becomes  a 
chief  centre  of  qualifying  words  and  dependent  clauses. 
While  many  of  the  incidents  and  forms  of  action  are 
expressed  by  adverbs,  many  are  also  incorporated  in  the 
/verb  itself.  Tenses,  moods,  and  voices  compress  into 
the  verb  the  time  and  relations  of  the  action,  till  this  in 
every  language  becomes  by  far  the  most  pregnant  part 
of  speech.  In  the  use  of  the  verb,  therefore,  even 
when  the  construction  is  as  simple  as  that  of  English, 
solecisms  frequently  appear.  Transitive  are  confounded 


SOLECISM   AND  IMPROPRIETY.  163 

with  similar  intransitive  verbs  —  set  with  sit,  lay  with 
lie.  "The  coat  sets  well."  "The  bird  is  setting" 
w  I  sat  myself  down  to  write."  "  This  principle  under- 
lays the  subject."  These  are  common  instances  of 
this  confusion. 

So  also  frequently  verbs  are  employed  in  a  transitive 
or  intransitive  use  which  does  not  strictly  belong  to 
them.  "  The  guilty  children  of  dust  might  come  to- 
gether and  transact  respecting  life  and  blessing." 

The  past  tense  and  perfect  participle  are,  when  dif- 
ferent, often  used  one  for  the  other.  The  little  conju- 
gation that  we  retain  we  seem  very  liable  to  forget, 
and  to  be  constantly  willing  to  substitute  the  regular 
forms  in  ed  for  the  older  and  stronger  ones.  Begun 
is  so  often  used  in  the  past  tense  for  began,  as  to  be 
now  nearly  ready,  by  a  tendency  seen  in  other  verbs,  to 
claim  the  usurped  place.  Conversation  is  even  troubled  | 
to  keep  distinct  forms  so  separate,  as  did  and  done. 

The  rule  is  frequently  forgotten,  that  conjunctions 
unite  in  the  same  construction  only  like  forms  of  the 
verb.  In  the  passage,  "  If  thou  bring  thy  gift  to  the 
altar,  and  there  rememberest  that  thy  brother  hath 
aught  against  thee,"  we  have  an  indicative  and  subjunc- 
tive included  under  the  same  regimen.  Either  mood  may 
be  used,  but  the  one  excludes  the  other.  The  subjunc- 
tive mood  in  English  has  few  distinctive  forms,  and 


164  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

shares  its  duties  with  the  indicative.  The  indicative  hus 
gained  ground  on  the  subjunctive  to  such  an  extent  that 
there  remain  but  few  offices  which  belong  exclusively  to 
the  latter. 

The  indicative  mood  marks  time  more  strongly  than 
any  other;  the  subjunctive  and  potential  constantly 
vacillate  in  this  respect,  and  forms  associated  with  the 
past  may  express  both  present  and  future  time,  requiring 
the  context  for  their  determination.  "  If  he  chose  he 
might  do  it,"  "  He  acts  as  though  he  thought  I  were  a 
fool,"  are  expressions  marking  this  fluctuation.  In 
consequence  of  this  tendency  of  the  indicative  more 
explicitly  to  define  the  assertion  in  time,  or  from  the 
idea  of  customary  action  which  it  involves,  the  subjunc- 
tive mood  occasionally  becomes  more  appropriate.  In 
the  clause,  "  If  he  were  to  do  it,"  the  vagueness  of 
time  is  more  consistent  with  the  subjunctive  than  with 
the  indicative  mood.  Hence  has  arisen  a  rule  of  very 
general  application,  that  when  doubt  and  futurity  are 
both  involved,  the  subjunctive  is  the  appropriate  mood. 
"Men  do  not  despise  a  thief  if  he  steal  to  satisfy  his 
soul  when  he  is  hungry."  If  the  indicative  were  here 
used,  it  might  indicate  a  habit  at  war  with  the  sentiment 
of  the  assertion. 

The  English  verb  is  quite  full  and  explicit  in  marking 
time ;  and  at  this  point,  therefore,  careless  composition 


SOLECISM   AND  IMPROPBIETY.  165 

is  especially  liable  to  inaccuracy.  Absolute  time  is 
chiefly  denoted  by  the  indicative.  The  present  tense 
has,  where  the  meaning  of  the  verb  requires  it,  two 
forms  denoting  respectively  customary  present  action, 
and  an  act  as  now  transpiring  —  he  speaks,  he  is 
speaking.  Both  of  these  forms  of  the  present  tense 
are  sometimes  given  in  the  passive,  and  we  have  "  Houses 
are  built  cheaply/''  and  the  often  criticised  and  somewhat 
awkward  expression,  "  The  house  is  being  built ; "  or  the 
older  form,  cc  The  house  is  a  building/'  A  general  truth 
having  no  immediate  reference  to  time,  not  coming 
under  its  limitations,  is  allied  to  customary  action,  and 
is  always  stated  in  the  present.  Such  truths  have  an 
omnipresence  that  renders  this  their  appropriate  tense. 
"  Happy  is  that  people  whose  God  is  the  Lord." 

In  the  past  tense  the  English  verb  expresses  three 
relations  of  time  under  two  forms  :  an  action  transpiring 
at  a  definite  past  time,  an  action  performed  at  a  definite 
past  time,  and  a  customary  past  action.  The  last  two 
offices  are  discharged  by  the  same  form.  The  imperfect 
is  the  definite  historical  tense,  and  except  when  marking 
a  customary  action,  —  a  fact  more  frequently  indicated 
by  additional  words  in  the  context,  —  it  can  be  met  by  the 
inquiry,  When?  "He  spoke,"  "He  was  speaking,"  both 
demand  for  their  explanation  a  definite  time,  attaching 
the  assertion  in  the  thought  to  a  given  moment.  The 


166  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

same  is  true  of  a  customary  past  action,  except  that  the 
time  is  lengthened  from  a  point  into  a  period.  "Houses 
were  built  of  wood ; "  that  is,  during  a  certain  past 
period. 

The  perfect  tense  leaves  the  assertion  in  the  whole  of 
the  past,  without  attaching  it  to  any  one  moment ;  or 
carries  it  through  the  whole  of  the  past,  denying  it  of 
every  part  of  it.  "I  have  accomplished  it."  " No  man 
has  ever  accomplished  it,"  present  the  two  forms.  The 
perfect  is  said  to  have  reference  to  the  present.  This 
it  does  only  by  implying  that  the  time  included  comes 
down  to  the  present  moment,  not  by  implying  that  the 
act  asserted  has  just  taken  place.  "I  have"  —  at  any 
past  time  whatsoever  down  to  the  very  latest  instant  — 
"  spoken."  If,  therefore,  the  assertion  lies  in  anything 
less  than  indefinite  past  time,  beginning  at  the  present 
moment,  the  perfect  tense  cannot  be  used.  We  cannot 
say,  "Rome  has  arisen,"  since  the  assertion  is  not 
applicable  to  the  period  which  has  intervened  since  its 
decline.  We  can  say,  ?  Babylon,  Greece,  Rome 
have  arisen  and  fallen,"  since  individual  states  are 
here  taken  to  represent  a  movement  which  has  con- 
tinued to  the  present  moment.  The  essential  point 
of  the  perfect  tense  is,  that  the  assertion  does  not 
pause  till  it  has  reached  the  present.  The  time  may 
be  restricted  by  the  nature  of  the  case,  or  explicitly 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  167 

by  words,  in  its  stretch  backward,  but  it  must  reach 
downward  to  the  point  now  occupied. 

The  pluperfect  and  future  perfect,  unlike  most  of  the 
tenses  of  the  indicative,  express  relative  time,  and 
always  imply  a  primary  statement,  of  which  they  are 
the  complement  or  correlative.  The  auxiliaries  have 
and  had  mark  the  priority  of  the  action  to  some  speci- 
fied or  implied  time  —  a  time  usually  involved  in  another 
leading  verb.  In  this  respect  the  pluperfect  and  future 
perfect  are  like  the  tenses  of  the  infinitive ;  the  present 
infinitive  denoting  a  time  the  same  with,  or  subsequent 
to,  that  of  the  verb  on  which  it  depends ;  the  perfect 
infinitive,  a  time  prior  to  that  of  the  principal  assertion. 
To  the  last  rule  there  is  an  exception  in  the  clause, 
"  He  ought  to  have  done  it."  A  grammatical  necessity 
here  gives  rise  to  an  expression  impossible  in  the  idea 
it  literally  conveys,  and,  by  the  violation  of  a  general 
rule,  the  language  gains  the  power  of  perspicuous 
expression  in  a  single  case.  Ought,  having  the  same 
form  in  the  present  and  past,  the  time-mark  which 
belonged  to  the  indicative  is  transferred  to  the  infinitive, 
and  a  solecism  accepted  in  place  of  obscurity.  The  law 
of  means  yields  to  the  exigency  of  the  end.  In  these 
tenses,  where  the  auxiliary  is  intended  accurately  to 
define  the  relative  time,  solecisms  frequently  arise  by 
their  employment  in  a  more  general  use. 


168  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

While  may,  can,  and  must,  might,  could,  would, 
and  should  are  not  confined  to  present  and  past  time, 
respectively,— the  last  series,  almost  as  frequently  as  the 
first,  referring  to  immediate  action, — they  correlate,  re- 
spectively, with  present  and  past  tenses.  Were  correlates 
with  would:  "If  he  were  there  he  would  do  it."  Is 
correlates  with  may:  "If  he  is  there  he  may  do  it." 
Might,  could,  would,  and  should  correlate  with  each 
other;  as  also  may,  can,  must,  and  will:  "If  this  can 
be  done  he  may  be  here,"  or  "  he  must  be  here,"  or  "  he 
will  be  here."  v 

Has  correlates  with  may,  -can,  and  must;  had,  with 
could,  would,  and  should:  — 

"If  the  house  has  been  built,  it  may  be  occupied." 

"If  the  house  had  been  built,  it  might  be  occupied." 

In  this  last  expression  we  see  that  the  pluperfect 
tense  does  not  necessarily  imply  priority  to  a  past  action, 
but  either  to  past  or  present  time. 

Subjoined  are  clauses  containing  some  of  the  more 
frequent  solecisms  of  tense  :  — 

"He  has  given  me  all  that  I  required  for  my  pur- 
pose." "They  continue  with  me  three  days."  "It 
was  a  truth  which  he  was  careful  to  enforce,  that  the 
civil  rights  of  men  were  equal."  "It  is  difficult  to 
say  what  the  world  would  have  been  if  Christ  had 
not  come." 


SOLECISM  AND   IMPROPRIETY.  169 

"If  the  work  should  be  finished  as  proposed,  he 
will  be  greatly  pleased  with  it."  "  He  that  was  dead 
sat  up  and  began  to  speak."  "If  he  is  there  he  might 
do  it."  "Meeting  with  a  common  beggar  upon  the 
road,  as  he  went  to  relieve  him,  he  found  his  pocket 
was  picked  "  "  What  shall  we  do  that  we  might  work 
the  works  of  God?"  "It  may  well  seem  as  if  other 
influences  than  such  as  are  now  in  operation  would 
require  to  be  put  forth  before  the  expected  good  can  be 
realized." 

"  It  was  killed  on  the  ice  in  the  weakest  part  of  the 
lake  (Champlain),  on  the  23d  of  February,  thirteen 
days  after  the  surface  was  entirely  frozen,  except  the 
usual  small  creeks,  and  a  month  or  two  after  the  ice 
closed  at  all  points  north  of  the  place  where  the  seal 
was  found." 

A  peculiar  distinction  in  the  use  of  tenses  is  spoken 
of  by  Webster.  "  When  we  use  the  present  tense,  it 
implies  uncertainty  of  the  fact,  and  when  we  use  the 
preterit,  it  implies  a  negation  of  its  existence.  Thus 
a  person,  at  night,  would  say  to  his  friend,  If  it  rains 
you  shall  not  go,  being  uncertain  at  the  time  whether 
it  did  or  did  not  rain ;  but  if,  on  looking  out,  he  per- 
ceived it  did  not  rain,  he  would  then  say,  If  it  rained 
you  should  not  go,  intimating  that  it  did  not  rain." 
The  explanation  of  this  use  seems  to  lie,  in  part  at 
8 


170  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

least,  in  the  law  of  correlation  pointed  out.  ?  You  shall 
not  go,"  necessarily  expresses  the  one  conclusion,  and 
f  You  should  not  go,"  the  other ;  but  these  must  correlate 
respectively  with  the  present  and  past  tenses. 

There  is  an  occasional  misapprehension  of  what  con- 
stitutes a  verb,  leading  to  a  false  passive.  Campbell, 
after  a  careful  discussion  of  the  passive  voice,  recognizes 
as  correct  the  syntax  of  the  sentence,  "The  rock  was 
split  upon  by  the  vessel."  Verbs  are  most  appropriately 
divided  into  transitive  and  intransitive,  since  this  division 
rests  on  a  grammatical  distinction,  — their  power  of  gov- 
ernment, —  and  not  on  the  meaning  of  words.  Most 
of  those  verbs  called  neuter  are  not  neuter,  and  it  is  a 
question  of  no  grammatical  import  whether  they  are 
neuter  or  not.  Grammatical  distinctions  should  rest 
exclusively  on  grammatical  grounds.  All  transitive 
verbs  can  take  a  real  passive ;  intransitive  verbs,  when 
assuming  a  passive  form,  rob  it  of  its  force,  as  in  the 
words,  "  He  is  gone"  There  is  a  large  class  of  verbs 
in  English  compounded  with  a  preposition ;  and  we  re- 
quire a  rule  to  distinguish  them  from  those  cases  which 
arise  from  the  accidental  union  in  position  of  a  verb  and 
preposition.  Why  have  we  compounds  in  the  clauses, 
"He  keeps  up  the  establishment,"  "He  entered  on 
'his  duties,"  "They  fell  out  by  the  way,"  "The  acid 
acts  upon  the  metal;"  and  not  in  the  clauses,  "He 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  171 

kept  up  the  hill,"  "He  entered  on  horseback,"  "He 
fell  out  of  the  window,"  "I  act  upon  this  principle"? 
Evidently  because  the  words  in  the  one  series  coalesce 
in  a  new  meaning :  "  He  kept  up"  that  is,  he  main- 
tained the  establishment ;  "  He  entered  on?  that  is,  he 
commenced  his  duties ;  while  in  the  other  series,  both 
verb  and  preposition  retain  simply  their  original  power. 
Only  where  we  have  a  true  compound,  and  that  com-] 
pound  an  active  verb,  can  we  rightly  construct  a  passive./ 
In  the  expression,  "The  ship  split  upon  the  rock, 
there  is  no  proper  union  of  the  verb  and  particle,  and 
therefore  the  form  was  split  upon  is  not  legitimate. 
Still  worse  is  the  passive,  justified  by  the  same  author, 
in  the  sentence,  "They  were  fallen  out  with  by  her." 
In  this  case,  the  preposition  with  follows  after,  but  is 
not  compounded  with,  the  verb. 

When  the  active  verb  governs  two  objects,  either  of 
them  may  become  the  subject  of  the  passive,  and  we 
have  two  forms  of  the  same  idea.  "  My  father  allows 
me  a  horse,"  becomes,  in  the  passive,  either,  "/  am 
allowed  a  horse  by  my  father,"  or,  "A  horse  is 
allowed  me  by  my  father." 

As  a  single  further  illustration  of  solecisms,  numer- 
ous in  the  other  parts  of  speech  as  well  as  in  the  verb, 
we  instance  a  use  of  the  conjunctions  either,  neither, 
when  more  than  two  suppositions  are  made.  "  He  can 


172  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

neither  remain  here,  nor  return  to  his  friends,  nor  pro- 
ceed to  advantage."  The  termination  er,  as  in  the 
comparative  of  adjectives,  has  frequently,  in  English,  a 
dual  force,  which  prevents  the  use  of  several  particles, 
when  more  than  two  objects  or  ideas  are  concerned. 
Either ,  neither,  other,  another,  ivhether,  former, 
latter,  are  words  of  this  character. 

The  syntax  of  the  English,  though  usually  thought 
to  be  simple,  yet  requires  for  its  complete  knowledge 
and  observance  very  considerable  attention.  Aside  from 
the  fixed  rules,'  the  language  has  developed  a  pref- 
erence for  certain  forms,  which,  if  not  always  imper- 
ative, yet  mark  a  pure  and  elegant  handling  of  the 
national  speech.  It  belongs  to  grammarians  to  lay  down 
the  laws  of  construction,  and  point  out  the  several  sole- 
cisms which  arise  from  their  violation.  The  rhetorician 
has  only  occasion  to  mark  the  general  character  of 
offences  against  purity,  and  the  value  of  this  quality 
of  style. 

The  third  violation  of  the  laws  of  language  is  an 
impropriety.  It  is  the  employment  of  words  in  a  mean- 
ing not  given  them  by  use. 

A  barbarism  is  an  offence  against  etymology ;  a  sole- 
cism, an  offence  against  syntax ;  and  an  impropriety, 
an  offence  against  lexicography.  Purity  is  the  employ- 
ment of  the  words  which  belong  to  a  language  in  the 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  173 

construction  and  meaning  assigned  them  by  that  lan- 
guage. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  improprieties  —  those  of 
words  and  those  of  phrases.  The  impropriety  in  the 
use  of  words  varies  from  a  slight  departure  from  the 
most  appropriate  application  of  a  term  to  its  entire  per- 
version. Synonymous  words  are  especially  liable  to  a 
careless  use,  which  overlooks  their  precise  power.  The 
beauty  and  accuracy  of  expression  must  depend  very 
much  on  the  care  with  which  the  entire  force  of  language 
is  preserved  —  the  precision  and  skill  with  which  it  is 
employed.  The  fulness  and  finish  of  the  picture  de- 
pend on  the  pliability  of  the  colors,  and  the  delicacy  of 
the  touch ;  the  fulness  and  finish  of  an  expression 
depend  on  the  clear  outline  of  the  thought,  and  the 
exactness  with  which  the  language  is  fitted  to  it.  The 
loose  style  is  ever  full  of  now  bolder,  now  slighter 
improprieties.  The  nicer  shades  of  meaning  are  lost 
sight  of,  and  a  rabble  of  words  are  all  ready  to  run  on 
any  service.  Words  allied  in  etymology  are  often  con- 
founded, as  tragic,  tragical ;  obnoxious,  noxious ; 
transcendent,  transcendental  ;  admit  and  admit  of. 
There  is  no  limit  to  the  variety  and  number  of  impro- 
prieties which  may  arise  in  the  use  of  words. 

Nouns  with  two  plurals  have  frequently  assigned 
them  a  distinct  meaning  for  each  form;  as,  genii , 


174  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

geniuses  ;  brothers,  brethren  ;  indexes,  indices.  We 
subjoin  a  few  improprieties  in  words  :  — 

"  No  man  has  a  type  of  face  so  clearly  national  as  the 
American.  He  is  acknowledged  by  it  all  over  the  con- 
tinent." 

"Immediately  these  schemes  failed  they  were  pre- 
pared to  throw  the  nation  overboard." 

"  The  relation  still  consisted  with  the  preservation  of 
their  religious  privileges." 

w  Many  of  the  English  admitted  of  no  such  interpre- 
tation." 

Impropriety  of  phrases  is  of  more  rare  occurrence, 
and  tends  to  confine  itself  to  a  few  expressions.  In 
the  sentence,  "  He  of  all  others  ought  not  to  do  it,"  the 
words  convey  a  meaning  not  intended  by  the  use  of  the 
language.  He  of  all  others,  takes  the  place  of  the  kin- 
dred form,  He  of  all  persons,  and  is  made  to  perform 
an  office  which  use  has  assigned  the  latter  words.  This 
class  of  errors  is  rightly  termed  an  impropriety  of 
phrases,  since  one  form  is  put  for  another  with  no  viola- 
tion of  grammar,  but  with  an  inappropriate  meaning. 

Purity  is  chiefly  valuable  as  a  quality  of  style  through 
its  connection  with  perspicuity  and  elegance.  Though 
not  capable  alone  of  compassing  these  higher  qualities, 
it  is  nevertheless  essential  to  them.  Language  assumes 
form  and  law  for  the  ease  and  clearness  of  expression ; 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  175 

and  ease  and  clearness  demand,  in  turn,  the  maintenance 
of  law.  Purity,  though  a  somewhat  negative  qual- 
ity, is  a  condition  for  high,  positive,  and  permanent 
results.  Impurities  do  not  always  arise  from  the  same 
cause,  nor  are  they  always  equally  injurious. 

The  introduction  of  new  words  frequently  springs 
from  pedantry,  or  from  the  love  of  novelty.  The  style 
is  made  one  of  oddities  and  conceits,  that  it  may  win  an 
attention  which  the  thought  is  not  able  to  secure.  Many 
barbarisms  and  some  improprieties  reveal  the  conscious 
effort  of  a  writer  who  aims  at  impression  rather  than  at 
truth,  and  who  rests  his  reputation  on  the  manner  rather 
than  on  the  matter. 

This  method  is  especially  unfavorable  to  the  orator, 
as  it  weakens  the  fervor  of  address,  and  casts  suspicion 
on  its  sincerity.  A  conceited  style  is  even  more  at  war 
with  energy  than  with  perspicuity,  constantly  breaking 
up  and  turning  aside  the  current  of  thought  with  some 
strange,  or  strangely  applied,  word.  Composition  which 
aims  at  amusement  may,  like  a  masquerade,  proceed 
with  odd  and  fantastic  show. 

Solecisms  most  frequently  arise  from  ignorance  and 
carelessness.  They,  therefore,  especially  offend  against 
elegance.  In  labored  composition,  where  time  is  given 
both  to  the  writer  and  reader,  these  become  grave 
offences,  marring  the  beauty  of  all  polished  effort.  Po- 


176  PHILOSOPHY   OP   RHETORIC. 

etry  strives  to  secure  a  finish  and  flow  of  style  which 
places  the  means  in  harmony  with  the  end.  In  oratory, 
especially  in  extemporary  effort,  on  the  other  hand,  sol- 
ecisms are  overlooked,  and  readily  referred  to  the  haste, 
(ho  impatient  earnestness,  of  the  speaker.  A  little  care- 
lessness in  the  means  is  pardoned  in  one  thoroughly 
occupied  with  the  end. 

Solecisms,  however,  often  mark  a  loose,  ravelling 
style,  which  needs  to  find  correction  in  more  compact 
and  restricted  sentences,  in  well-knit  and  firm  asser- 
tions, and  clearly  defined  dependences.  The  beginning 
of  a  long,  lazy  sentence  is  forgotten,  and  hence  its 
grammatical  demands  overlooked.  A  promised  correl- 
ative is  not  given,  and  the  assertion  closes  wide  of  its 
commencement.  Extemporary  effort  is  especially  liable 
to  be  entangled  in  the  connections  of  a  complex  sentence, 
and  at  last  to  cast  them  aside  still  unclucidated.  Sol- 
ecisms which  arise  from  a  weak  coherence  of  the  parts  of 
a  sentence  ought  especially  to  be  guarded  against,  as 
indicating  indolent  thought,  and  tending  to  inadequate 
and  obscure  expression. 

A  sentence  is  the  first  complete,  organic  product  of 
thinking,  and,  in  its  precision  and  strength,  reveals  the 
vigor  of  the  process  under  which  it  has  arisen.  A  com- 
pleteness of  grammatical  relations  marks  the  sentence. 
It  is  a  full  circle  of  dependences.  A  few  conjunctions 


SOLECISM   AND   IMPROPRIETY.  177 

imply  a  previous  assertion,  and  a  few  pronouns  seek 
their  antecedents  outside  its  limits ;  aside  from  this, 
every  relation  must  be  finished  within  the  complete 
sentence. 

A  large  class  of  improprieties  arise  from  careless, 
vague  thinking,  —  a  use  of  words  as  empty,  slipping 
signs,  with  no  constant  reference  of  them  to  well-defined 
ideas,  which  they  are  employed  to  denote.  This  class 
of  offences,  therefore,  greatly  interferes  with  perspicuity, 
especially  in  all  discussions  which  require  accurate  and 
severe  statements.  If  the  concepts  —  the  bundles  of  no- 
tions which  lie  back  of  the  words,  and  which  they  pur- 
port to  represent  —  are  not  the  same  for  all  minds,  or 
for  the  same  mind  at  different  moments,  it  is  evident 
that  the  assertions  made  by  means  of  these  words  can 
cover  no  common  ground  of  thought,  and  can  be  safely 
linked  in  no  chain  of  reasoning.  It  is  not  more  neces- 
sary that  the  letters  of  algebra  remain,  during  the  reduc- 
tion of  an  equation,  true  to  the  representative  duty  as- 
signed them  at  the  outset,  than  that  words  adhere  firmly 
to  the  restricted  ideas  with  which  they  are  charged. 
Language  is  only  a  precise  and  safe  medium  of  thought 
as  each  word  receives  and  always  discharges  definite 
and  recognized  offices.  Otherwise  used,  it  becomes  the 
means  of  constant  deception,  misapprehension,  and  mis- 
take. The  person  who  carelessly  employs  it  is  often, 
1  8*  L 


178  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

most  of  all,  deceived  by  it.  Many  controversies  end  in 
each  party's  assigning  to  his  adversary  a  discarded  idea, 
which  neither  will  now  accept  as  having  been  Tiis  own ; 
in  both  parties'  claiming  a  position,  at  length,  recog- 
nized as  right. 

Use  is  only  too  vague  in  determining  the  meaning  of 
words ;  if  we  depart  still  farther  from  precision,  it  must 
be  greatly  at  the  expense  of  clearness.  Improprieties, 
even  when  not  an  immediate  oif ence  against  perspicuity, 
easily  lead  to  such  an  offence  ;  while  solecisms  may  often 
arise  from  the  idiomatic  force  of  a  language. 

Opinion  has  much  altered  of  late  as  to  the  province  of 
criticism  and  its  possible  power  over  a  tongue.  Many 
philologists  are  wishing  to  renovate  English  spelling. 
The  speech  of  a  nation  is  the  product  of  its  national  life, 
and  will  submit  to  change  only  in  a  slow  and  limited  way. 
Life  must  be  dealt  with  cautiously,  and  is  not  to  be  so 
readily  helped  by  improvements  as  the  sanguine  reformer 
imagines. 


BOOK    III. 

CHAPTER   I. 

STYLE. 

IT  remains  to  speak  of  the  methods  of  composition 
•—of  style.  Style  is  the  peculiar  mode  of  expression 
which  belongs  to  an  author.  This,  in  some  of  its  lead- 
ing features,  is  often  similar  in  the  writers  of  a  period 
or  of  a  nation.  Style  is  dependent  both  on  internal  and 
external  conditions.  It  receives  its  peculiar  form  chiefly 
from  the  mental  movements  of  which  it  is  the  expres- 
sion. The  thought  and  language  are  realized  together, 
and  the  same  tendencies  that  determine  the  one  must  in 
this  very  act  definitely  fasten  the  other.  Language  is 
often  spoken  of  as  the  garment  of  the  thought.  The 
figure  implies  by  far  too  distinct  and  independent  an 
existence  in  the  thought.  This,  like  the  life  of  a  plant, 
is  conditioned  by  and  to  the  form  in  which  it  abides ; 
and  though  this  form  may  be  greatly  modified  by  the 
external  forces  to  which  it  is  subject,  yet  this  modifica- 
tion reacts  strongly  on  the  life  in  the  one  case,  on  the 

(179) 


180  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

thought  in  the  other.  The  mind,  with  a  given  mastery 
of  language,  with  a  certain  fulness  and  force  of  vocabu- 
lary, a  certain  ease  and  accuracy  of  composition, — the 
complex  result  of  habit  and  education,  —  sets  itself  to 
the  task  of  reaching  and  expressing  its  thoughts. 

Under  these  defined  external  conditions  the  mind  real- 
izes a  product,  shaped  by  its  own  laws  and  tendencies 
of  action.  The  force  from  within  has  been  modified  by 
the  means  at  its  disposal ;  and  in  the  result,  both  inte- 
rior and  exterior  causes,  both  original  power  and  educa- 
tional advantages,  blend  and  reveal  themselves. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  absolutely  good  style. 
Composition  is  a  means,  and,  like  all  means,  must  be 
governed  by  the  end.  With  each  variation  in. the  end, 
therefore,  style,  or  method,  must  be  modified.  In  reach- 
ing the  same  end,  also,  minor  varieties  of  method  are 
not  only  admissible,  but  desirable,  as  expressing  the 
varieties  of  character,  and  making  each  product  more 
individual  and  personal.  That  which  is  peculiar  with- 
out being  faulty  imparts  freshness  and  variety,  and  adds 
to  the  scope  of  literature. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  in  certain  general  characteristics 
that  all  good  styles  agree,  and  not  in  the  details  by 
which  specific  ends  and  adaptations  are  reached.  Even 
the  leading  qualities  of  good  style  will  stand  in  different 
relations  to  each  other,  and  exist  in  different  degrees, 


STYLE.  181 

according  to  the  particular  object  to  be  secured.  There 
is  no  uniform  preponderance  of  one  over  another,  or 
balance  of  one  with  another,  fitted  for  all  places  and 
occasions.  A  great  variety  of  adjectives  may  be  applied 
to  style,  as  terse,  vehement,  copious,  verbose,  which  ex- 
press different  degrees  of  praise  or  of  censure,  according 
to  the  specific  object  in  the  light  of  which  the  effort  is 
to  be  judged.  What  is  succinct  for  one  audience  is 
copious  for  another  and  verbose  for  a  third.  No  abso- 
lute standard  is  to  be  set  up ;  but  that  we  may  pre- 
serve the  force  of  Nature,  something  of  her  freedom  is 
to  be  allowed.  A  fixed  and  staid  perfection  is  one  of 
the  least  perfect  of  results.  The  contemptuous  criticism 
of  pedantic  and  formal  art  marks  a  decay  of  power. 

The  primary  qualities  of  style  are  three  :  perspicuity, 
elegance,  and  energy.  They  make  answer  in  composi- 
tion to  the  three  questions,  What  is  it?  What  its  pro- 
priety? What  its  force?  Through  perspicuity  we  realize 
a  definite  intellectual  product ;  through  elegance  we 
secure  in  form  its  highest  adaptation  to  the  end;  and 
through  energy  its  highest  adaptation  in  force. 

Of  these  three,  the  fundamental  quality  is  perspi- 
cuity :  without  it,  a  production  can  neither  be  elegant 
nor  energetic.  We  cannot  have  elegant  form  till  we 
have  form,  nor  forcible  sentiment  till  we  have  sentiment. 
It  is  the  light  which  perspicuity  sheds  through  the  Intel- 


182  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETOKIC. 

lectual  product  which  reveals  its  elegance  and  energy. 
Thought,  that  it  may  haye  the  second  and  third  quali- 
ties, must  have  the  first  quality.  Without  this,  it  yet  lies 
half  hidden  amid  things  unshaped,  and  can  neither  fur- 
nish the  form  of  beauty  nor  the  substance  of  strength. 

These  leading  qualities  of  style  stand  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  three  divisions  of  the  mental  faculties  : 
understanding,  emotions,  and  will.  Perspicuity  arises 
from  the  most  perfect  action  of  the  intellect ;  and  per- 
spicuous composition  alone  can  discipline  the  mind  and 
meet  its  wants.  There  is  here  a  double  relation  ;  per- 
spicuity is  both  a  result  of,  and  a  means  to,  successful 
mental  effort. 

Elegance  springs  from,  and  expresses,  delicacy  of 
feeling.  The  emotional  nature,  in  its  more  sensitive 
and  esthetical  action,  is  the  source  of  refined  sentiment 
and  of  those  chosen  and  elegant  forms  which  appropri- 
ately embody  it.  The  imagination,  though  often  em- 
ployed in  the  service  of  pure  thought,  only  paints  in 
warm  and  glowing  colors  under  the  influence  of  the  feel- 
ings. Elegance,  therefore,  as  a  quality  of  style,  stands 
most  intimately  connected  with  the  emotions. 

Energy  expresses  the  patience  and  vigor  with  which 
an  end  is  pursued,  and  these  qualities  are  due  to  will. 
Desire,  assuming  a  settled  determination,  imparts  direc- 
tion and  earnestness  to  the  movements  of  the  mind, 


STYLE.  183 

and,  hence,  energy  to  that  language  which  reveals  them. 
Energy  is  rooted  in  will;  without  it  there  can  be  no 
persistency,  no  power. 

These  three  qualities  stand  also  connected,  respec- 
tively, with  the  three  forms  of  composition.  Prose, 
philosophical  prose,  having  chiefly  to  do  with  the  con- 
nections of  facts  or  the  logical  relations  of  thought, 
above  all  requires  perspicuity  in  their  conception 
and  statement.  Accuracy  and  distinctness  are  here, 
as  in  a  working-plan,  or  an  illustrative  drawing,  the 
qualities  most  requisite.  Statement  is  the  thing  aimed 
at;  and  statement  is  statement  no  further  than  it  is 
lucid. 

In  poetry,  on  the  other  hand,  pleasure  is  sought ;  and 
it  is  a  condition  of  high-wrought,  delicate  enjoyment 
that  it  shall  everywhere  meet  the  laws  of  taste.  It 
is  the  perfection  of  the  product  that  pleases,  and  this 
perfection  seeks  after  a  complete  and  elegant  form. 
Hence,  elegance,  as  the  condition  of  the  highest  pleas- 
ure, becomes  a  ruling  quality  in  poetry. 

In  oratory,  will  is  to  be  influenced ;  and  this  is  accom- 
plished chiefly  through  the  energy  of  argument  and 
emotion.  The  strength  of  the  thought  —  not  its  intrinsic 
and  latent  strength,  but  its  open,  demonstrative  power 
—  is  now  the  point  of  interest,  and  style  is  to  be  judged 
by  its  immediate,  popular  force.  Those  means  are  the 


184  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

best,  and  those  alone,  which  are  most  truly  effective. 
Moral  force,  moving  steadily  toward  a  defined  end,  is 
the  essential  characteristic  of  oratory  ;  and  this  is  energy. 
Not  only  does  no  one  of  these  qualities  exclude  the 
others,  they  are  mutually  dependent  on  each  other,  and 
one,  when  present  in  a  high  degree,  involves  a  meas- 
ure of  the  remaining  two.  Though  the  means  of  reach- 
ing these  qualities  of  style  are  allied,  we  yet  have  occa- 
sion to  speak  of  each  separately. 


PERSPICUITY.  185 


CHAPTER   II. 

PERSPICUITY. 

AMONG  the  qualities  of  a  good  style,  perspicuity  is 
plainly  the  most  essential.  It  must  accompany  the 
writer  in  all  forms  of  effort,  and  be  found  in  every 
sentence.  It  is  not,  however,  so  much  an  absolute  as 
a  relative  quality.  What  is  plain  to  one  audience  may 
be  obscure  to  another.  The  man  and  the  child,  the 
ignorant  and  the  learned,  cannot  be  addressed  in  the 
same  language  ;  and  the  perspicuity  of  composition  is  to 
be  judged  by  the  intelligence  of  those  for  whom  it  is 
designed.  Perspicuity  has  reference  to  the  ease,  cer- 
tainty, and  precision  with  which  the  language  yields  the 
thought  to  those  for  whom  it  was  expressed.  It  is  not 
the  nature  of  subjects,  but  the  power  of  persons,  which 
determines  the  perspicuity  of  any  given  treatment. 

It  is  evident,  that,  to  a  wise  man,  the  capacity  of 
those  whom  he  seeks  either  to  instruct,  please,  or  per- 
suade must  furnish  the  guide  and  law  of  action.  What- 
ever this  demands,  he  will  patiently  grant  as  the  funda- 
mental condition  of  success.  Some  forms  of  composition, 


186  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

as  the  oration,  have  a  most  immediate  and  specific  ref- 
erence to  given  individuals,  and,  therefore,  are  levelled 
to  their  easy  apprehension ;  others,  as  is  frequently  the 
case  with  the  essay  and  the  poem,  go  in  search  of  cer- 
tain readers,  and  are  not  expected  to  furnish  the  fullest 
entertainment  or  instruction  to  any  but  a  limited  class. 
Eeaders  of  any  given  book  constitute  a  more  select  circle 
than  those  who  usually  listen  to  any  given  address,  and 
therefore  the  writer  may  presuppose  in  those  for  whom 
he  writes  higher  powers  than  can  the  orator.  The 
poem  may  rightly  demand  poetical  insight ;  and  philoso- 
phy, the  discipline  of  a  trained  mind.  It  is  sufficient 
that  composition  finds  a  class  to  whom,  through  affinity 
of  tastes  or  powers,  it  readily  imparts  its  thought. 
The  writer,  therefore,  in  aiming  at  perspicuity,  considers 
chiefly  whether  his  own  ideas  have  been  lucidly  ex- 
pressed, while  the  orator  must  inquire  whether  the 
expression  is  open  to  the  easy,  pleasurable  apprehension 
of  given  persons.  The  book  determines  the  reader,  the 
listener  determines  the  oration. 

The  obscurity  and  difficulty  of  a  subject  can  hardly 
be  regarded  as  any  just  reason  for  the  want  of  per- 
spicuity; indeed,  they  rather  seem  to  constitute  the 
demand  for  it.  One  is  not  bound  to  write ;  if  he  must 
write  obscurely,  and  therefore  weakly  and  worthlessly, 
he  is  rather  bound  not  to  write.  In  proportion  to  the 


PERSPICUITY.  187 

embarrassments  of  the  topic  should  the  writer  move 
cautiously  and  distinctly  through  it. 

Perspicuity  is  that  quality  of  style  by  which  a  clear 
thought,  without  loss,  without  enlargement,  is  lodged  in 
clear  language.  It  depends  primarily  on  the  method 
of  the  mind's  action,  and  secondarily  on  the  use  of  lan- 
guage. No  formal  rules,  having  chief  reference  to  the 
instrument  and  methods  of  expression,  can  in  any  high 
degree  secure  it.  It  must  spring  from  a  strong,  well- 
furnished,  and  well-disciplined  mind.  Confused  thinking 
and  confused  expression  cannot  be  readily  distinguished 
in  their  results,  and  the  latter  will  not  often  occur 
without  the  former.  At  this  point,  as  at  others,  we  see 
how  deeply  true  rhetorical  excellence  is  rooted  in  the 
mind,  and  how  broad  and  thorough  a  culture  it  implies. 
The  expression  is  the  counterpart  and  measure  of  the 
thinking,  and  little  can  be  done  for  the  forms  of  thought 
except  through  thought  itself.  Formal  directions  are 
of  slight  avail ;  the  mind  must  be  quickened,  and  taught 
to  do  its  work  more  thoroughly.  Style,  the  outgrowth 
of  the  intellectual  life,  can  only  become  clear,  concise, 
and  vigorous,  as  the  intuitive  and  reflective  powers 
themselves  possess  these  characteristics.  The  strong 
and  elastic  step  is  the  spontaneous  movement  of  a 
full  life. 

He  that  would  think  clearly  can  neither  be  indolent 


188  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

nor  hasty.  Indeed,  haste  is  a  very  common  result  of 
indolence.  The  mind  will  either  not  investigate  its 
opinions,  or  does  it  precipitately  and  carelessly,  that  it 
may  again  relapse  into  the  quiet  of  dogmatism,  substi- 
tuting obstinacy  for  conviction. 

Thinking  also  proceeds  so  frequently  in  the  interest 
of  some  passion,  marshalling  arguments  for  a  given 
conclusion,  shaping  reasons  so  as  to  reach  a  specific 
end,  that  candid  inquiry  and  just  apprehension,  and 
hence  the  most  perspicuous  expression,  are  impossible. 
False  views,  and  the  worst  emotions,  may,  indeed,  be 
perspicuously  expressed ;  but  they  are  not  likely  to  be. 
Man  usually  strives  to  throw  the  semblance  of  plausi- 
bility and  virtue  over  his  beliefs  and  action,  and  in  doing 
this,  the  thought  becomes  partial  and  sophistical.  An 
imposing  and  decorous  phraseology  is  made  to  disguise 
the  opinions  which  it  seems  to  express.  That  men  will 
not  come  to  the  light  lest  their  deeds  be  reproved,  is  the 
explanation  of  much  confused  argumentation.  The 
vigor  of  all  parts  of  man's  nature  is  requisite  to  the  most 
successful  action  of  any. 

Eight  aims  and  thorough  methods  are  the  conditions 
of  just  thinking,  which  is  the  most  perspicuous  thinking. 
Obscurity  arises  from  that  rapid  glance  of  the  mind  by 
which  it  seems  to  behold  without  fully  grasping  its 
object.  The  eye  at  no  time  rests  protractedly  upon  a 


PERSPICUITY.  189 

single  portion  of  the  field,  till  it  has  mapped  it  in  a 
completed  survey.  The  act  of  expression  hurries  the 
process  of  thought ;  the  seeming  progress  which  is 
made,  when  a  form  of  words  is  reached,  deceives  the 
mind,  and  leaves  it  satisfied  with  the  shadowy  semblance 
of  things. 

In  passing  from  the  clear  sunlight  into  a  dark  cave, 
we  see  but  obscurely,  in  flickering  outline,  the  objects 
about  us.  If  we  commence  instantly  our  description, 
we  can  scarcely  expect  that  the  impression  which  we 
shall  impart  will  be  more  accurate.  It  is  necessary 
that  the  eye  should  rest  where  it  falls,  till  angles  and 
surfaces,  projections  and  crevices,  come  out  from  the 
darkness,  and  stand  rightly  grouped  before  it.  Thus  he 
who  would  think  clearly  must  make  tarry  within  the 
light  of  a  reflective  mind  the  subject  in  hand  till  it 
stands  in  clear  outline.  All,  then,  that  trains  the  mind 
to  severe  thinking,  and  the  heart  to  right  feeling,  pre- 
pares the  way  for  perspicuous  utterance. 

While  an  honest  and  disciplined  mind  is  the  general 
condition  of  perspicuity,  there  are  in  each  effort  of  com- 
position more  immediate  and  specific  conditions.  Some 
of  these  we  shall  mention  :  the  first  is  a  distinct  appre- 
hension of  the  thing  proposed,  of  the  end  to  be  reached. 
This  condition  is  equally  important,  whatever  that  end 
may  be,  whether  the  communication  of  thought,  the 


190  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

imparting  of  pleasure,  or  persuasion.  The  object  is 
often  not  early  or  definitely  enough  conceived  by  the 
mind  to  give  form  to  the  composition.  The  writer  is 
said  to  "write  himself  clear;"  that  is,  the  exact 
relation  of  ideas  is  seen  at  the  close,  and  not  at  the 
commencement,  of  the  effort.  This  may  be  frequently 
unavoidable;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  mind  cannot 
most  directly  and  succinctly  present  a  subject  till  it  has 
defined  the  topic,  and  seen  its  bearings.  The  more 
specific  and  individual  the  object,  the  more  strict  will  be 
the  test  furnished  every  sentence,  and  the  more  definite 
the  law  of  arrangement. 

What  is  termed  the  throwing  out  of  ideas  is  an  indo- 
lent and  relatively  a  confused  process.  Concentration, 
definiteness  of  purpose,  —  this  is  that  which  gives  order 
and  direction  to  the  mind,  and  sets  it  on  systematic 
effort.  Even  in  poetry,  the  more  single  and  individual 
the  product,  the  more  perfect  does  it  promise  to  become. 

In  this  choice  of  an  end  there  is  also  involved,  as  a 
second  condition,  a  clear  discernment  of  the  means  by 
which  it  is  to  be  reached.  The  two  must  go  together. 
It  is  the  end  which  defines  and  arranges  the  means. 
All  questions  of  method  are  intelligently  settled  only 
when  we  have  an  explicit  apprehension  of  the  object 
proposed.  It  is  the  want  of  this  which  so  often  gives 
vagueness  and  generality  to  discourse,  a  conflicting 


PERSPICUITY.  191 

and  erratic  character  to  the  essay.  The  highest  per- 
spicuity can  only  be  reached  in  connection  with  severe 
unity.  Every  part  thus  complements,  sustains,  and 
expounds  every  other,  and  the  mind,  undiverted,  ap- 
proaches by  every  movement  one  step  nearer  the  end. 

Not  only  must  the  end  and  the  means  by  which  it  is 
to  be  reached  be  present  to  the  mind,  they  must  often  be 
clearly  expressed  as  well  as  thoroughly  contained  in  the 
composition.  When  success  depends  on  the  distinctness 
with  which  the  steps  of  thought  are  taken,  the  mind  of 
the  listener  must  be  aided,  that  the  movement  may  be 
most  rapid,  easy,  and  perfect.  It  is  not  sufficient, 
therefore,  for  the  highest  perspicuity,  that  the  relations 
and  line  of  connection  are  in  themselves  perfect ;  the 
auditor  needs  to  be  forewarned  of  the  object  in  view, 
and  to  have  his  attention  directly  drawn  to  the  succes- 
sive steps  through  which  it  is  reached.  The  general 
relations  of  the  discussion  are  thus  brought  to  the  sur- 
face, and  the  listener  led  to  direct  his  full  attention  to  its 
successive  stages.  Without  this  general  anatomy  of  the 
theme,  considerable  reflection  is  often  required  to  discern 
relations  in  themselves  most  severe  and  logical. 

This  formal  statement  of  the  subject  and  its  divisions 
is  often  thought  to  be  mechanical,  and  to  preclude  the 
highest  artistic  products.  The  skeleton  of  the  oration, 
it  is  said,  should  be  contained  in,  rather  than  thus 


192  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

raised  upon,  the  composition.  In  poetry  this  is  uni- 
formly the  case,  since  the  life-like  effect  is  here  of 
preeminent  moment,  and  delighted  contemplation,  rather 
than  rapid  apprehension,  is  aimed  at.  In  forms  of  com- 
position addressed  more  directly  to  the  intellect,  it  is, 
however,  the  ligaments  and  relations  of  thought  which 
especially  invite  attention,  and  there  is  needed  no  apol- 
ogy for  presenting  these  in  bold  relief.  In  the  oration 
much  ingenuity  may  be  exercised  in  announcing  the 
subject,  and  in  passing  from  part  to  part  of  the  dis- 
course without  abruptly  suspending  the  whole  movement, 
and  inserting  those  arbitrary  notices  of  change  —  first, 
secondly,  thirdly.  Even  these,  however,  are  better  than 
a  transition  so  carefully  covered  as  not  to  be  distinctly 
and  at  once  observed.  Transitions  clearly  marking  the 
progress  of  thought  are  a  third  important  condition  of 
perspicuity. 

This  clearness  of  a  production,  taken  as  a  whole,  is 
much  more  important  than  the  perspicuity  of  single 
sentences;  since  the  mind  experiences  more  difficulty 
in  grasping  and  relating  the  whole  than  in  a  careful 
consideration  of  detached  portions ;  since  the  gain  is 
slight  if  parts  are  understood,  while  their  purpose  and 
relations  are  not  seen ;  and  since,  with  the  general 
object  full  in  view,  obscure  sentences  can  either  be 
comprehended,  or,  without  much  loss,  be  neglected. 


PERSPICUITY.  193 

Sentences,  the  rudimentary  parts  of  discourse,  are  —  as 
compared  with  their  grouping,  first  into  members,  and 
then  into  a  whole  —  likely  to  receive  too  much  attention. 

A  chief  instrument  of  perspicuous  thought,  and  yet 
more  of  perspicuous  expression,  is  comparison.  The 
mind  adds  the  unknown  to  the  known  by  inquiring  into 
agreements  and  differences.  Each  new  fact  takes  its 
place  in  the  classifications  of  knowledge  by  its  relations 
to  those  already  present  there.  The  mind  is  constantly 
explaining  to  itself  the  new,  is  penetrating  it  with  a 
more  thorough  analysis,  by  an  accurate  determination  of 
its  agreements  and  disagreements  with  the  old.  Think- 
ing involves,  therefore,  constant  comparison ;  and  the 
breadth,  justness,  and  clearness  with  which  this  is  done 
measure  the  power  of  the  mind.  Hasty,  superficial 
resemblances  are  a  constant  source  of  error;  radical, 
though  often  remote,  agreements,  the  foundations  of 
truth.  The  thoughtful  mind  is  in  every  step,  therefore, 
trained  to  comparison,  and  the  precision  with  which  this 
iu  instituted  marks  the  perspicuity  of  its  movement. 

Comparison,  in  its  two  forms  of  resemblance  and  an- 
tithesis, being  so  fundamental  a  step  in  investigation  and 
comprehension,  must  also  play  an  important  part  in  pres- 
entation. Though  essentially  the  same  principles  underlie 
inquiry  and  instruction,  — the  getting  and  the  imparting 
of  knowledge, — the  latter  receives  some  modifications 
9  M 


194  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

from  the  different  relations  which  the  mind  of  the  reader 
or  listener  may  sustain  to  the  subject.  It  is  not  now  so 
much  the  radical  comparisons  of  philosophy,  liable  to  be 
equally  obscure  in  both  their  branches,  that  are  sought, 
as  those  more  general  agreements,  which,  finding  one 
member  already  lodged  in  the  popular  apprehension, 
pass  thence  to  the  other  and  more  obscure  member. 
The  mind  is  no  longer  busy  with  its  own  processes, 
inquiring  into  inherent  and  intimate  relations,  but  is 
striving  within  the  compass  of  general  knowledge  to  find 
a  vantage  point  from  which  to  spring  an  arch  over  into 
the  more  obscure  domain  of  truth,  to  discover  something 
of  which  it  may  say,  "  Look  ye  here ;  see  this  ;  it  is  like 
that  of  which  I  am  speaking."  A  certain  aptness  and 
interest  in  the  agreements  of  things  remote  are  now 
sought,  rather  than  the  thorough  resemblance  of  things 
closely  allied. 

The  comparison  of  'discourse  is  always  under  this  lim- 
itation, that  it  must  find  its  starting  point  among  things 
well  known.  With  this  restriction,  the  more  severe  and 
philosophic  it  may  be,  the  more  correct  and  perspicuous 
is  it.  Perspicuity  is  reached  by  illustrative  comparisons, 
and  these,  in  their  just  forms,  involve  inherent  agree^ 
ments.  By  an  error  at  this  point,  that  which  is  seem- 
ingly perspicuous  is  really  most  fallacious  and  obscure. 
Comparisons  which  hold  to  the  senses,  but  not  to  the 


PERSPICUITY.  195 

mind,  which  involve  transient  agreements  with  radical 
differences,  offer  subtle  means  of  deception.  Just  in 
proportion  as  the  illustrative  comparison  slips  from  phi- 
losophy into  fancy,  does  it  become  dangerous  and  ob- 
scure. Its  seeming  light  adds  to  the  darkness.  Like  a 
flickering  candle  in  the  night,  it  makes  the  gloom  only 
the  more  impenetrable. 

The  comparison  may  also  be  used  for  vivacity,  —  for 
the  beauty  of  its  glowing  imagery.  Here  there  is  more 
license  in  the  resemblance,  since  both  branches  of  the 
comparison  are  now  relatively  well  understood,  and  the 
aim  is  rather  to  delight  by  the  corresponding  lustre  of 
remote  things  than  to  instruct  by  the  agreement  of  allied 
things. 

The  use  of  comparison  is  very  much  a  habit  of  thought. 
The  mind  observes  and  treasures  up  resemblances;  it 
relates  and  unites  diverse  things,  and  thus  can  reach 
a  given  end  from  many  different  starting  points.  It 
has  an  eye  for  harmonies,  and  marks  them  in  the  prog- 
ress of  physical  and  spiritual  forces.  So  intimate  is 
the  connection  of  style  with  thought,  that  the  method 
of  thinking  must,  in  a  large  degree,  be  the  method  of 
presentation,  and  the  relations  of  the  expression  be  de- 
termined by  the  interior  relations  of  the  ideas.  Style  is 
chiefly  to  be  affected  through  that  discipline  which  con- 
trols the  mind.  The  habits  of  observation  and  investiga- 


196  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

tion  give  the  imagery  of  discourse.  The  mind  stored 
with  comparisons  by  its  own  methods  of  inquiry,  can 
hardly  fail  to  use  them. 

The  comparison  is  a  formal  figure,  pointing  out  dis- 
tinctly, and  often  at  length,  the  agreement  or  contrast 
between  two  things.  This  fits  it  for  clear,  unimpas- 
sioned  presentation,  for  quiet,  yet  earnest,  explanation. 
There  is  in  it  activity  and  warmth  of  thought  rather  than 
emotion.  The  antithesis  may  present  its  subject  in 
strong,  brilliant  outline;  but  it  is  throughout  a  most 
perspicuous,  intellectual  process,  and  requires  the  com- 
posure of  reason  to  preserve  its  balance  and  make  it  a 
presentation,  not  a  distortion,  of  the  subject.  Of  the 
two  forms,  antithesis  is  the  more  striking.  Marked 
contrasts  are  less  frequently  observed,  and  affect  the 
mind  more  than  marked  agreements.  Our  judgments 
are  almost  wholly  relative,  and  we  form  our  highest  esti- 
mate of  any  quality  by  contrasting  it  with  its  opposite. 

We  now  come  to  those  conditions  of  perspicuity  which 
are  more  strictly  external.  Chief  among  these  are  the 
choice  of  words,  the  number  of  words,  and  their  arrange- 
ment. These  are  the  divisions  given  by  Campbell  under 
vivacity,  for  which  we  here  find  place.  The  fact  is, 
that  the  qualities  of  good  style  are  so  allied,  that  what 
secures  one  helps  to  secure  all,  and  the  same  points  dis- 
cussed in  somewhat  different  relations  are  applicable  to 


PERSPICUITY.  197 

all.  Choice  of  words  is  important  in  securing  each 
excellency  of  style. 

The  writer  is  regulated  in  his  choice  of  words  princi- 
pally by  the  subject  discussed ;  the  speaker,  by  the  per- 
sons addressed.  Science  has  found  necessary  for  pre- 
cision many  new  words.  These  have  a  limited  and 
technical  meaning.  The  careful  philosophical  essay 
must  often  employ  these  for  the  precise  and  accurate 
expression  of  its  meaning.  These  qualities  give  law  to 
its  language,  and  though,  at  first,  there  may  seem  to  be 
thrown  a  heavier  burden  on  the  reader,  he  has  no  right 
to  complain  of  what  is  necessary  to  a  more  just  under- 
standing of  the  subject.  Ease  must  give  way  to  accu- 
racy, and  to  combine  the  two  in  the  highest  degree  is 
the  excellency  of  the  writer.  While  composition  on  its 
philosophical  side  is  governed  by  precision,  on  its  popular 
side  it  is  controlled  by  ease  of  apprehension.  The  for- 
mula for  the  one  is,  Be  precise,  and  thereby  be  under- 
stood ;  for  the  other,  Be  understood,  and  therewith  seek 
precision.  Technical  phraseology  may  be  in  the  essay, 
when  rightly  employed,  most  perspicuous ;  perspicuous 
discourse  must  be  most  simple  in  the  words  used. 

Simple  words,  in  the  present  meaning,  are  those  read- 
ily understood  by  the  mass  of  men.  They  are  the  only 
appropriate,  as  they  are  the  only  perspicuous,  words  in 
discourse.  Simplicity  may  have,  however,  a  broadei 


198  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

meaning, — the  use  of  those  words  which  most  readily, 
most  directly,  convey  the  meaning  to  the  minds  ad- 
dressed, —  and  thus  belong  to  all  perspicuous  compo- 
sition. Specific  as  opposed  to  abstract,  and  familiar 
as  opposed  to  unusual  words,  render  the  idea  most 
accessible  to  all  minds.  It  is  not  so  frequently  the  dif- 
ficulty or  depth  of  the  thought  that  removes  it  from  the 
popular  apprehension,  as  the  strangeness  of  the  lan- 
guage in  which  it  is  expressed.  Many  radical  princi- 
ples may  be  stated  and  elucidated,  many  weighty  truths 
discussed  and  urged,  if  the  language  and  illustrations 
employed  are  level  to  the  audience.  There  is  usually 
shrewdness  enough  to  catch  ideas,  when  these  are  not 
disguised  and  estranged  by  unfamiliar  phraseology. 

The  process  of  education  may,  in  this  respect,  unfit 
the  speaker  for  the  task  afterward  laid  upon  him.  He 
acquires  the  vocabulary  of  schools  and  books  rather 
than  that  of  popular  life,  and  gives  to  every  discussion  a 
technical  turn,  which  removes  it  from  the  language  and 
feelings  of  the  people.  Every  principle  of  practical 
interest,  as  every  radical  principle  is,  can  be  discussed 
and  pressed  as  a  powerful  motive,  provided  that  dis- 
course unfolds  it  on  its  practical  side,  in  its  familiar 
bearings,  and  not  speculatively  as  the  member  of  a 
system. 

The  speaker   must   start  with  the   people,  enlarge, 


PERSPICUITY.  199 

correct,  and  apply  their  views.  He  must,  therefore,  be 
familiar  with  their  words,  their  thoughts,  the  imagery 
of  their  life  and  minds.  To  bring  forth  scholarly 
thoughts  in  their  original  speculative  forms,  is  to  invite 
a  popular  audience  to  an  entertainment  in  which  they 
can  have  little  part  or  interest ;  the  crane  feasts  the  fox 
in  his  own  long-necked  dish. 

Some  men  discover  this,  and  fall  into  an  opposite 
and  worse  fault.  Drollery,  extravagance,  stories,  are 
made  to  furnish  amusement,  and  the  lightest  possible 
dash  of  substantial  truth  is  deemed  sufficient  for  popular 
effect.  The  discourse  is  perspicuous,  but  comparatively 
worthless.  Rarely,  very  rarely,  need  one  lay  aside  a 
good  thought  as  too  difficult  of  apprehension.  Find  its 
practical  bearings,  its  familiar  applications,  and  through 
these  it  can  be  approached  with  great  certainty  and 
interest.  Discourse,  to  be  thoroughly  perspicuous,  must 
be  communicated  in  the  speech  of  common  life,  not  in 
those  abstract  and  general  terms  which  serve  the  pur- 
poses of  reflection. 

In  no  department  of  oratory  is  this  more  manifest 
than  in  the  pulpit.  A  certain  unreality  and  estrange- 
ment from  daily  experience  belong  to  spiritual  ideas. 
Add  to  this  a  theological  turn  of  expression,  a  set  use 
of  peculiar  words  ever  liable  to  lapse  into  cant,  the 
solemnity  of  the  Sabbath  and  the  church,  and  though  the 


200  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

sermon  may  seem  to  be  perspicuous,  to  be  perfectly 
understood,  the  most  weighty  truths  have  in  fact  fallen 
on  the  mind  with  little  or  no  influence.  We  may 
account  for  this  in  various  ways,  but  we  think  it 
largely  due  to  a  want  of  real  perspicuity.  We  know 
that  certain  forms  of  speech,  in  themselves  clear  and 
weighty,  can  be  repeated  till  they  convey  little  or  no 
idea.  Eeclothe  the  thoughts  in  a  more  immediate  and 
pressing  form,  and  they  resume  their  power.  Religious 
truth  is  often  not  perspicuously  urged,  because  not  urged 
under  those  intimate  and  searching  and  changing  rela- 
tions which  it  really  sustains  to  daily  life.  When  any 
great  department  makes  the  impression  of  a  supersensual 
and  speculative  region,  it  is  not  understood.  One  can- 
not be  perspicuous  without  a  thoroughly  penetrating  view 
of  the  radical,  living  connections  of  truth.  Theoretical 
men  may  philosophize,  but  the  orator  must  know  and 
feel  truth  on  its  practical  side  as  well.  It  is  not  the 
statics  so  much  as  the  dynamics  of  life  that  he  is  to 
expound  and  control.  Things  are  plain  enough,  and 
we  must  give  to  our  thoughts  the  perspicuity  of  facts, 
and  then  they  will  become  effective.  This  sort  of 
clearness  is  the  foundation  of  energy. 

In  the  choice  of  words,  it  is  evident  that  purity 
will  greatly  aid  perspicuity.  The  original  Anglo-Saxon 
element  of  our  language  has  been  chiefly  retained  by 


PERSPICUITY.  201 

the  people,  and  is  now  its  clearest,  strongest  portion. 
Here,  again,  education  may  easily  weaken  our  vocabu- 
lary, substituting  classical  derivatives  for  our  native 
speech. 

A  second  verbal  point  on  which  perspicuity  depends 
is  the  number  of  words.  A  cumbersome,  involved 
expression,  though  containing  the  idea,  is  less  clear  than 
one  more  concise.  The  mind  is  embarrassed  by  words 
which  have  no  essential  office.  The  more  divested  the 
sentence  is  of  superfluities,  the  more  separately  and 
singly  does  the  thought  stand  forth.  When  the  point 
of  comprehension,  of  fair  and  succinct  statement,  has 
been  reached,  all  beyond  wearies  and  confuses  the 
mind.  In  the  search  for  something  more,  it  loses  sight, 
in  part,  of  what  it  had.  Amplification  is,  indeed,  a 
most  essential  power  in  oratory,  but  this  is  neither  cum- 
bersome nor  repetitious.  Copious,  no  less  than  concise, 
expression  should  keep  the  words  directly  in  the  line  of 
thought ;  we  incline  to  the  one  or  the  other  according 
to  the  rapidity  of  movement  of  which  the  listener  is 
capable.  We  can  neither  fall  behind  nor  outstrip  him 
without  weakening  attention.  Slowness  is  not  simply 
opposed  to  energy,  —  it  is  also  unfavorable  to  appre- 
hension. 

The  last  means  of  perspicuity  is  arrangement.  Thia 
expresses  the  grammatical  connections  of  the  sentence, 
9* 


202  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

and  must,  therefore,  conform  closely  to  them.  Punctu- 
ation is  a  further  means  of  expressing  these  relations, 
but  is  so  liable  to  error  and  change,  that  it  ought  to  be 
as  little  as  possible  relied  on.  It  is  designed  rather  to 
give  quickness  of  apprehension  to  the  reader,  than 
intelligibility  to  the  writer.  So  far  as  the  grammar 
of  a  sentence  is  concerned,  its  clearness  depends  chiefly 
on  the  simplicity  of  the  construction,  the  precision  of 
the  arrangement,  and  the  reference  of  pronouns.  As 
regards  perspicuity,  the  length  of  a  sentence  is  not 
of  as  much  moment  as  the  character  of  its  construction. 
It  is  the  complex  dependences,  the  involved  relations, 
the  assertion  sliding  on  from  point  to  point,  that  em- 
barrass the  mind,  tripping  it  in  the  meshes  of  grammar. 
Retain  the  same  simple  form  of  affirmation,  and  the 
sentence  may  be  long,  yet  clear.  It  is  the  steady,  easy 
hand  with  which  its  grammar  is  managed  which  carries 
perspicuity  through  a  sentence. 

To  mark  the  dependence  of  adjectives,  adverbs,  and 
prepositional  clauses,  position  is  relied  on.  The  last 
two  have  more  license  of  arrangement  than  the  first, 
and  are,  therefore,  more  open  to  obscurity.  There  are 
frequently  opportunities  for  a  double  reference.  It  is 
in  these  cases  especially  that  the  dependence  must  be 
strictly  marked.  As  in  the  rabble  of  modern  speech, 
the  noun  and  verb  no  longer  clothe  their  dependants  in 


PERSPICUITY.  203 

the  livery  of  inflection,  each  must  gather  to  itself  its 
retinue  in  close  attendance. 

The  relative  pronoun,  having  little  to  mark  the  con- 
nection with  its  antecedent,  is  confined  in  its  reference 
to  the  sentence  to  which  it  belongs,  and  is  further 
restricted  in  position.  If  the  antecedent  is  a  prominent 
noun,  it  may  sufficiently  attach  the  pronoun,  though 
other  nouns  intervene  ;  if  not,  the  relative  should  imme- 
diately follow.  The  personal  pronoun,  though  more 
closely  connected  with  its  antecedent  by  gender,  num- 
ber, and  person,  is  also  liable  to  ambiguous  reference, 
and  the  more  so  as  the  range  of  its  reference  is  enlarged 
to  preceding  sentences.  We  say  sentences :  it  cannot, 
however,  revert  far  without  obscurity,  unless  the  con- 
nection is  marked  and  sustained  by  the  frequent  inter- 
vening use  of  the  pronoun.  Narrative  may  maintain 
the  reference  when  continuous  for  some  time.  When 
any  intervening  matter  has  suspended  it,  the  noun 
should  again  be  introduced.  The  perspicuity  and  dig- 
nity of  narrative  are  better  secured  by  a  frequent  use 
of  the  noun.  The  demonstrative  this  is  often  used 
with  obscure  reference,  chiefly  because  it  refers,  not  to  a 
person  or  thing,  but  to  some  sentiment  or  principle. 
This  principle  has  frequently  not  received  a  distinct 
statement,  but  only  been  hinted  at,  or  involved  in  what 
lias  been  said.  The  mind,  therefore,  expounds  the 


204  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

comprehensive  pronoun  with  uncertainty.  It  is  usually 
better  distinctly  to  enunciate  the  doctrine  or  notion, 
before  this  sort  of  reference  is  admitted. 

Perspicuity  is  a  relative  quality.  It  is  judged  by  the 
end  in  view.  It  may,  therefore,  be  found  in  excess. 
To  push  lucid  explanation  beyond  what  is  requisite  for 
apprehension  is  wearisome.  This  power  of  comprehen- 
sion known  to  exist,  or  rightly  presumed  to  exist,  varies 
with  every  form  of  composition.  The  speaker  is  most 
strongly  and  definitely  bound  by  a  fact,  —  a  given 
degree  of  intelligence  which  he  must  know  and  regard. 
With  those  who  are  capable  of  profiting  by  it,  a  sug- 
gestive rather  than  an  exhaustive  style  is  preferable,  as 
it  gives  a  more  independent,  fresh,  and  profitable  move- 
ment to  the  mind  of  the  listener.  There  is  more  pleas- 
ure in  the  light  and  shade  of  morning  than  in  the  even 
glow  of  noonday. 

Memory  also  often  demands  a  compact  statement, 
though  it  may  require  much  afterthought  fully  to 
understand  it.  Thus  knowledge  is  made  portable  in 
aphorisms  and  proverbs,  and  the  speaker  gathers  up  his 
discussion  in  a  few  terse  sentences,  which  first  require 
the  whole  discourse  for  their  explanation,  and  afterward 
retain  it.  Subjects,  divisions,  and  compends  may  be 
perspicuous  only  in  their  connections,  being  designed  to 


PERSPICUITY.  205 

fasten  attention  and  aid  memory,  —  to  contain,  rather 
than  to  expound,  the  theme. 

It  has  also  been  observed  that  where  persuasion  is 
aimed  at,  the  very  end  in  view  will  not  always  suffer 
the  highest  perspicuity.  An  absurd  yet  common  opinion 
or  custom  is  to  be  exposed :  if  unsparing  argument  and 
ridicule  are  employed,  pride  is  aroused,  and  obstinacy 
excited.  Men  are  ashamed  to  accept  conclusions  which 
have  in  them  so  much  censure  and  contempt  for  their 
past  conduct ;  they  are  unwilling  to  believe  that  they 
and  so  many  have  been  grossly  mistaken,  and  resist  to 
the  utmost  the  unpleasant  conviction.  They  try  to  do  by 
obstinacy  what  they  cannot  do  by  argument.  We  are 
all  slow  to  make  an  unconditional  surrender.  If  a 
retreat  is  left  open  to  vanity,  we  silently  draw  off  our 
forces  without  acknowledging  even  to  ourselves  a  defeat. 
It  is  often  easier  to  add  a  second  mistake  than  to  cancel 
the  first  by  a  frank  concession.  When  the  aim  is  to 
win  those  addressed,  they  are  not  so  much  to  be  driven 
as  persuaded.  The  prejudices  and  passions  are  not  to 
be  at  once  aroused  by  undisguised  attack,  but  princi- 
ples are  to  be  established,  and  truths  insinuated,  that 
shall  lead  the  mind  by  its  own  action  to  the  right  con- 
clusion, and  make  the  result  seem  to  be  one  of  its  own 
acceptance.  Pitiless  argument,  censure,  and  rebuke 
can  only  be  used  as  a  last  resort  toward  those  who  are 


206  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

to  be  aroused  and  forced  to  action,  or  against  open 
and  determined  enemies,  not  so  much  for  their  sake  as  a 
means  of  influence  with  third  persons.  The  preacher 
especially  needs  to  know  what  kind  of  perspicuity  is 
persuasive,  what  effective  for  the  end  proposed. 


ELEGANCE. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

ELEGANCE. 

ELEGANCE  is  more  frequently  employed  to  express 
a  polished  and  refined  style  than  a  simple  and  natural 
one ;  to  denote  acquired,  than  native  graces.  It  is 
here  used  to  cover  all  in  composition  that  gives  pleasure 
to  taste,  both  in  the  matter  brought  forward  and  in  its 
method  of  presentation,  or,  more  accurately,  in  the 
matter  as  presented.  The  object  of  taste  is  beauty  in 
its  fuller  and  more  restricted  forms,  in  itself  and  in 
its  elements.  That  composition  may  give  pleasure  to 
taste,  there  must  be  beauty  in  the  conception,  and  skill 
and  ease  in  the  execution ;  matter  and  manner  must 
combine  to  make  the  product  elegant.  The  more  excel- 
lent either  alone  may  be,  the  more  conscious  are  we  of 
any  discord  between  them.  Homely  matter  in  homely 
phrase  may  possess  much  power ;  shift  the  one  without 
the  other,  impart  refinement  to  the  words  merely,  and 
the  whole  becomes  ridiculous.  In  treating  of  elegance, 
we  have,  therefore,  as  much  to  speak  of  its  basis  in  the 


208  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

mind's  action,  as  of  those  methods  which  native  grace 
is  sure  to  adopt. 

Elegance  rests  chiefly  on  richness  and  delicacy  of 
feeling.  It  has  but  little  connection  with  simply  reason- 
ing processes.  Its  intellectual  side  is  intuitive  —  a 
direct,  immediate  perception  of  qualities  interpreted  by 
the  emotions  which  they  arouse.  One  might  as  well 
expect  to  understand  the  power  of  music  without  feeling 
it,  as  to  perceive  beauty  without  the  love  of  it.  The 
more  diversified  and  sensitive  one's  emotional  nature, 
the  more  rapid  and  certain  will  be  his  judgment  in  ques- 
tions which  ultimately  make  their  appeal  to  feeling. 
Moral  problems  are  often  interpreted  and  solved  by 
generous,  just  feeling,  quite  as  quickly  and  surely  as 
by  unimpassioned  speculation. 

Elegance  depends  principally  on  the  management  of 
emotional  elements ;  it  is,  therefore,  an  essential  excel- 
lence in  poetry.  Here  nothing  can  take  its  place,  since 
to  fail  in  giving  pleasure,  to  fall  short  of  the  harmony 
of  concurrent  feeling,  of  inwrapping  the  heart  in 
elevated  sentiment,  is  to  forfeit  the  very  end  for  which 
poetry  is  instituted.  In  the  philosophical  essay,  ele- 
gance takes  a  wholly  secondary  position.  In  the 
anatomical  room,  we  forget  the  beauty  of  the  living 
structure.  Elegance  is  now  little  more  than  the  most 
straightforward  statement  of  simple  facts  —  is  but  the 


ELEGANCE.  201) 

lustre  of  perspicuity.  In  the  narrative  essay,  as  history, 
especially  when  the  discussion  of  causes  is  forgotten, 
and  the  sequence  of  facts  followed,  the  movement  is 
that  of  free  living  forces,  and  the  beauty  and  grace  of 
life  gather  about  the  theme.  Here  lies  an  important 
distinction  between  history  and  the  novel.  In  the  one 
narrative,  the  facts  are  preeminent ;  but  that  they  may 
be  facts,  they  must,  be  the  entire,  the  living  facts, 
clothed  as  far  as  possible  with  the  emotion  of  the  hour. 
In  the  other,  the  feelings  are  uppermost,  and  the  flexi- 
ble narrative  goes  and  comes  so  as  best  to  reveal  these, 
the  real,  the  vital  forces  of  life.  The  truth  of  princi- 
ples belongs  to  the  good  novel ;  the  truth  of  facts  and 
principles,  to  history. 

In  oratory,  elegance  is  not  only  secondary  to  energy, 
but  taste,  when  it  is  in  the  least  degree  fastidious, 
when  it  is  nervous,  may  decidedly  interfere  with  success. 
Elegance  partakes  too  much  of  form,  and  too  little  of 
substance,  has  reference  too  much  to  an  ideal  and  too 
little  to  a  practical  end,  to  be  a  controlling  quality  in 
oratory.  When  men  are  content  to  be  elegant,  and  not 
succeed,  rather  than  be  a  little  less  elegant,  and  succeed, 
taste  merely  weakens  and  emasculates  speech.  Elegance 
is  a  method,  a  manner,  and  can  never  be  opposed  to  an 
end.  Reach  the  end,  and  do  it  with  as  much  taste  as 
may  be.  A  querulous  and  pedantic,  or  a  fondling 

N 


210  IHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

criticism,  that  trims  and  soothes  everything,  is  cf  little 
use,  and  gives  its  possessor  much  superfluous  trouble. 
It  ought  not  to  be  said,  that  there  is  any  inherent  con- 
flict between  elegance  and  energy.  They  frequently 
sustain  each  other.  The  apparent  disagreement  between 
them  arises  often  from  mistaking  the  end  of  oratory,  and 
striving  to  give  pleasure  rather  than  to  secure  impression, 
and  from  the  frequent  want  of  cultivation  in  those 
addressed. 

In  the  first  case,  beauty  being  aimed  at,  elegance 
comes  to  be  the  ruling  quality  of  style,  which  it  never 
properly  can  be  in  oratory.  As  true  elegance,  nay, 
truer,  might  have  been  found  by  imparting  to  the  address 
a  more  determined  style,  pushing  forward  to  its  end. 
Weakness  is  not  necessary  to  elegance,  though  elegance, 
sought  for  itself,  often  leads  to  it.  There  is  a  more 
sublime  and  stirring  beauty  in  action  than  in  rest.  This 
enervating  taste  is  corrected  by  imparting  a  more  ex- 
ternal and  practical  end.  The  tasks  which  fall  to  work- 
ing men  are  in  all  departments  more  or  less  homely. 
Dainty  men  are  usually  indolent  fops. 

In  the  second  case,  the  orator  finds  in  the  audience  a 
blunt,  undisciplined  taste.  He  cannot  throw  his  pearls 
before  swine.  As  a  wise  man,  he  draws  imagery, 
illustration,  and  appeal  from  familiar  fields,  and  with  less 
beauty,  but  more  energy,  presses  forward.  That  criticism 


ELEGANCE.  211 

is  maudlin,  which,  in  the  pulpit  or  on  the  platform,  cuts 
off  the  speaker  from  the  most  immediate  and  full  suc- 
cess. Immediate  and  permanent  success  sets  law  to  the 
effort,  and  no  gains  of  taste  merely  can  atone  for  its 
want.  It  rarely  calls,  however,  for  a  violation  of  taste  ; 
it  chiefly  leads  to  a  partial  oversight.  It  should  also  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  a  breach  of  taste  may  excite  atten- 
tion and  win  a  rude  applause,  and  yet  do  mischief.  In 
proportion  as  intelligence  and  cultivation  gain  ground, 
elegance  and  energy  concur  in  their  effects,  and  the 
most  energetic  becomes  the  most  elegant  form  of 
action. 

Minds  differ  much  from  each  other  in  the  delicacy 
of  their  apprehensions  and  quickness  of  their  suscep- 
tibilities. Some  lie  sluggish  and  heavy  under  all  the 
subtler  influences  and  lighter  movements  by  which 
grace  and  beauty  are  expressed;  while  others,  as  if 
endowed  with  a  new,  more  universal  and  perfect  sense, 
like  a  brilliant  flower,  cull  from  the  common  light  all 
its  rarest  tints.  This  delicate  perception  is  an  indis- 
pensable requisite  for  all  composition  in  any  high 
degree  elegant,  and,  bestowed  in  its  rudiments  by 
nature,  is,  like  every  other  power,  largely  dependent 
on  cultivation. 

Exercise  is  ever  the  chief  means  of  discipline ;  and 
for  this,  in  the  department  of  taste,  the  opportunities 


212  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

are  abundant.  The  careful  observation  called  for  in 
connection  with  the  natural  sciences  is  one  of  the  best 
methods  of  securing  that  intimacy  with,  and  interest 
in,  Nature,  which  render  us  open  to  her  lessons  of 
beauty.  The  materials  of  taste  here  exist  in  the  greatest 
profusion  and  abundance ;  in  individual  objects  and  in 
the  grouping  of  objects ;  in  obscure  and  in  palpable 
forms ;  in  parts  and  in  perfected  wholes ;  in  suggestion 
and  realization ;  in  sound,  movement,  color,  and  form ; 
and  in  all  these  gathered  into  one  compound  and  lavish 
utterance.  The  great  storehouse  of  illustration,  com- 
parison, metaphor,  is  Nature ;  and  by  a  familiarity  with 
her  concealed  and  open  processes  we  shall  find  the  more 
obscure  workings  of  thought,  the  darker  flow  of  abstract 
things,  lighted  up  by  a  thousand  resemblances.  This 
study  of  the  external  world  will  avail  little,  unless  we 
bring  to  it  a  mind  that  has  a  productive  habit,  and  that, 
too,  in  the  line  of  letters.  Food  nourishes  the  active, 
growing  part,  whatever  that  may  be,  and  he  who  uses 
what  he  gets  also  acquires  the  power  to  get  readily  what 
he  uses.  The  same  objects  are  looked  upon  with  very 
diverse  reference,  and  therefore  diverse  effect.  The 
literary  mind  finds  the  play  of  thought  in  external 
objects,  and  through  them  gives  play  to  thought. 
What  seems  to  be  an  effect  is  often  most  efficient 
among  the  cooperative  causes.  The  exercise  of  an 


ELEGANCE.  213 

activity  is  the  reason  rather  than  the  result  of  its  nour- 
ishment. 

As  composition  deals  more  with  men  than  things,  and 
deals  with  them  under  a  more  stringent  law  of  propriety, 
elegance  especially  demands  a  knowledge  of  men,  — of 
their  passions  and  impulses.  If  we  would  present  char- 
acter in  its  many  varieties,  —  if  we  would  approach  it 
through  its  many  avenues,  —  if  we  would  twist  into  the 
cord  by  which  we  bind  men  to  our  purposes  those 
golden  threads  which  a  knowledge  of  occasions  and 
persons  can  alone  supply,  —  we  must  move  among  men, 
and  know  them.  We  must  learn  to  apprehend,  without 
sharing,  that  which  is  base  and  selfish ;  and  sharing,  to 
feel  the  influence  of  every  generous,  life-giving  impulse. 
Thus  we  escape  those  straitened  methods  and  chronic 
opinions  which  our  own  bias  or  peculiar  training  may 
have  imparted.  The  ease  and  grace  of  management 
which  a  knowledge  of  men  imparts  are  proverbial. 
There  is,  however,  this  most  important  limitation  —  the 
sincerity  and  freedom  of  individual  action  must  not 
thereby  be  lost.  Here,  again,  we  come  to  the  same 
principle ;  we  get  to  use,  and  the  earnestness  of  using 
preserves  us  from  the  dangers  of  getting.  Without 
this  a  cold  and  courtly  polish  may  cast  a  chilling  ele- 
gance over  our  decayed  life.  No  intercourse  is  so 
healthy  as  that  with  men,  men  of  all  sorts,  for  an 


214  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

earnest  spirit ;  none  so  dangerous  for  a  vacant  one. 
The  controlling  power  of  every  truly  elegant  product 
is  the  individual  life.  This  will  often,  by  its  own 
spontaneous  strength,  secure  elegance  against  every 
difficulty. 

A  last  means  of  discipline  which  we  mention,  is 
familiarity  with  the  best  literature.  Excellence  in  each 
department  is  so  far  peculiar,  that  it  must  be  chiefly 
acquired  by  study  within  its  own  field.  Every  good 
workman  must  learn  his  own  trade ;  and  not  less  must 
every  inspired  poet  and  orator  catch  his  inspiration  from 
poetry  and  oratory.  The  chief  power  of  every  virtue 
is  a  sort  of  induction  by  which  it  begets  a  like  or  prox- 
imate state  in  every  one  who  beholds  it.  Contact  with 
that  which  is  excellent,  nearness  to  that  which  has 
power,  intimacy  with  that  which  has  grace,  give  play 
to  this  silent  force  of  virtue  by  which  it  scatters  seeds 
and  shoots  in  all  adjacent  soil.  The  lower  grace  of 
manners  springs  up  insensibly  as  we  share  the  society 
of  those  possessing  it;  so  the  higher  grace,  which  be- 
speaks a  mind  easily  moving  through  the  whole  range 
of  its  thought.  Familiarity  with  feeble  novelists  will 
add  this  to  its  many  other  injuries,  that  the  mind,  habit- 
uated to  a  false  or  languid  style,  will  lose  sight  of  true 
excellence,  and  content  itself  with  that  which  long  com- 
panionship has  made  agreeable.  He  who  is  intimate 


ELEGANCE.  215 

with  the  best  productions  of  the  human  mind,  while 
meeting  with  the  largest  return  in  thought,  also  finds 
that  that  preeminence  of  method  which  has  long  been 
his  admiration  has  quickened  and  prospered  his  own 
exertions.  In  all  this  discipline  there  is  the  most  con- 
stant action  and  reaction  between  the  mind  and  the 
objects  before  it.  It  chooses  them  in  part  from  what 
it  itself  is,  and  becomes  more  and  more  like  the  objects 
it  has  chosen.  Between  the  active  mind  and  its  food 
there  is  an  adaptation,  a  play  of  appetite  and  digestive 
use,  which  prevent  it  from  becoming  either  a  gross  gor- 
mandizer or  a  dyspeptic.  The  elixir  of  health,  and 
therefore  of  beauty,  is  that  principle  which  sets  our 
power,  our  knowledge,  "in  act  and  use." 

The  intrinsic  beauty  of  the  theme  itself  is  not  in  any 
great  degree  a  subject  of  choice,  except  in  poetry.  In 
most  forms  of  composition,  elegance  must  show  itself 
more  in  the  method  than  in  the  matter  of  discourse. 
We  come,  then,  to  those  characteristics  in  composition 
which  mark  it  as  elegant.  Beauty  shows  itself  in  the 
fitness  and  perfection  of  relations,  since  these  are  insti- 
tuted by  the  artist,  and  reveal  his  power. 

The  first  of  these  relations  is  that  between  the  style 
and  the  subject.  Each  theme  has  its  own  characteristics, 
and  seeks  for  a  sympathy  of  manner  in  the  expression. 
That  treatment  is  most  elegant  which  most  thoroughly 


216  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

individualizes  the  topic,  brings  it  forth  under  its  own 
specific  forms,  features,  and  coloring.  A  method  essen- 
tially the  same  in  all  departments  reveals  at  once  the 
inflexible  barren  mood  of  the  mind.  For  all  its  thoughts 
it  has  one  unchangeable  mould,,  and  sends  each  new  prod- 
uct forth  with  the  eld  mill-mark  upon  it.  The  fresh- 
ness and  variety  of  nature  are  thus  lost.  There  is  no 
nice  discernment  of  character,  no  careful  reflection  of 
transient  feeling.  Every  subject  is  weighed  in  the  same 
rude  scale-pan,  and  gets  the  taint  of  the  market.  The 
illimitable  scope  of  nature  is  thus  lost  :  the  grave,  the 
sublime,  the  solemn  ;  the  earnest,  the  enthusiastic,  the 
inspired  ;  the  pleasant,  the  gay,  the  merry, — all  march 
to  the  same  step.  Or  with  accidental  change,  under  the 
mood  of  the  mind,  low  comedy  takes  the  place  of  sober 
discussion,  or  pompous  and  emphatic  assertion,  of  simple 
statement. 

This  harmony  between  the  inherent  quality  of  the 
topic  and  the  style  can  only  be  reached  when  the  mind 
stands  in  close  connection  and  sympathy  with  the  sub- 
ject. The  language  will  thus  flow  forth,  colored  and 
impregnated  with  the  peculiar  properties  of  the  theme. 
This  congruity  will  show  itself,  not  merely  in  the  gen- 
eral method  employed,  but  especially  in  illustration  and 
ornament.  A  style  indiscriminately  ornate  reveals  a 
crude  or  vulgar  taste.  Economy  of  ornament,  and  its 


ELEGANCE.  217 

strict  subservience  to  the  end  aimed  at,  discover  the 
masterly  and  chaste  quality  of  the  mind.  The  luxuri- 
ance of  youth  is  not,  indeed,  to  be  rejected,  as  it  gives 
scope  to  the  sober,  pruning  hand  of  age,  and  helps  to 
save  style  from  those  bald  forms  into  which  the  barren 
fancy  sinks.  Imagery  —  which  is  the  growth  of  earnest 
emotion,  —  which  is  the  vitality  of  the  heart  filling  with 
flowers  each  vacant  spot  —  may  indeed  be  abundant,  and, 
in  its  spontaneous  life,  most  beautiful.  This  is  quite 
different  from  that  overwrought  style  which  deals  in  per- 
petual hyperbole,  and  sees  none  of  the  poor  people  and 
poor  facts  which  lie  in  its  way.  The  fare  of  the  mind, 
like  that  of  the  body,  must  be  plain,  to  be  wholesome. 
The  mind  should  truly  value  the  subject,  not  feel  that  its 
task  is  to  make,  by  adroit  rhetoric,  something  out  of  it. 

In  this  relation  of  the  theme  and  style  may  also  be 
included  harmony  and  rhythm  of  sound.  The  more 
emotional  the  theme,  the  more  does  it  seek  this,  till,  in 
the  gems  of  poetry,  it  almost  reaches  the  melody  of 
music.  In  discourse  it  becomes  a  wholly  secondary  and 
undefined  element,  little  more  than  what  has  already 
been  spoken  of  as  harmony  of  style.  Words  as  sounds 
merely  somewhat  govern  each  other;  so  inferior  a  claim, 
however,  cannot  be  greatly  heeded  in  the  earnest  move- 
ment of  discourse. 

A  second  relation  is  that  between  the  parts  of  coinpo- 
10 


218  PHILOSOPHY   OP  RHETORIC. 

sition  to  each  other,  and  to  the  whole.  A  right  relation 
here  is  in  some  respects  the  most  rare  and  costly  beauty 
of  style.  To  manage  the  theme  as  a  whole  requires 
reflection,  and  is  more  requisite  to  success  than  the  skil- 
ful handling  of  every  part.  The  ground  plan  of  the 
building  goes  far  to  determine  the  possibilities  of  the 
structure.  It  is  easier  to  elaborate  and  ornament  the 
parts  than  to  think  long  on  the  design ;  but  not  till  the 
outline  is  reached  does  the  law  of  the  building  appear ; 
afterward  all  is  natural  and  inevitable.  Fragments  are 
more  readily  produced  than  wholes.  The  steadiness 
with  which  the  mind  rests  upon  and  works  out  the  main 
idea  marks  its  power.  Here  there  is  not  much  differ- 
ence between  the  highest  poetry  and  oratory.  The  epic 
and  dramatic  poet  must  remember  the  plot,  must  in  each 
scene  heighten  and  hasten  the  catastrophe,  or  the  one- 
ness of  the  work  is  lost.  In  the  oration,  the  introduc- 
tion cannot  linger,  the  argument  cannot  pause,  nor  the 
passion  cool :  all  must  work  together  in  the  result,  —  all 
be  proportional  parts  of  a  well-proportioned  whole. 

This  fact  of  proportion,  however,  does  not  define,  by 
any  invariable  law,  either  the  number  or  the  length  of 
the  parts.  These  points  are  settled  by  the  peculiarities 
of  each  case.  Each  product  has  its  own  proportions, 
but  proportion  it  must  have.  Excess  and  deficiency  are 
equally  fatal  to  symmetry.  That  no  necessary  part  may 


ELEGANCE.  219 

be  wanting,  and  none  over-treated,  the  mind  must  dwell 
patiently  on  the  end  and  the  means  before  it.  An  undi- 
vided impulse  must  pervade  the  entire  effort.  The  treat- 
ment once  undertaken  must  be  completed.  A  logical 
method,  promising  severe  investigation,  cannot  drop 
away  into  a  popular  strain  and  ready  assumption.  The 
parts  must  be  proportionate,  continuous,  and  concur- 
rent; that  is,  harmoniously  developed  toward  a  single 
end.  The  production  thus  acquires  the  elegance  of  a 
living  whole.  In  unfolding  the  subject,  the  grace  of 
transitions  becomes  a  point  of  moment.  We  before  saw 
that  they  should  be  clear ;  they  should  also  reveal  the 
natural  connection  of  the  parts.  We  thus  see  that  ele- 
gance is  not  extrinsic,  but  intrinsic ;  not  superinduced, 
but  educed ;  not  local,  gathered  here  and  there  into  fas- 
cicles of  figures  and  knots  of  imagery,  but  pervasive  and 
inclusive.  It  is  the  general  merit  that  at  once  stimulates 
and  disguises  the  merits  of  the  parts. 

Another  set  of  relations  is  found  between  the  dis- 
course and  the  persons  and  circumstances  connected 
with  it.  We  shall  have  occasion,  in  connection  with 
<!  Energy,"  to  speak  of  the  adaptation  of  the  motives  of 
discourse  to  those  addressed.  The  adaptation  now 
spoken  of  is  of  a  more  delicate  character.  It  is  not 
simply  that  the  line  of  thought  is  perspicuous  and  per- 
tinent, level  to  the  intellects  and  feelings  of  the  audience, 


220  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

but  that  it  also  indicates  familiarity  with  the  transient 
feelings  and  passing  circumstances  of  the  persons  and  oc- 
casion. It  is  the  skilful  handling  of  little  things  which 
shows  refined  perception,  takes  from  the  treatment  its 
cold,  rugged  character,  and  makes  way  for  it  in  the 
affections.  The  more  keenly  and  delicately  alive  the 
heart  of  the  speaker  is  to  the  exigencies  and  peculiar- 
ities of  the  case,  the  more  does  discourse  depart  from 
generalities,  and  become  the  fit  and  elegant  outgrowth 
of  the  time  and  place.  It  is  this  ease  and  ductility  of 
method  by  which  it  winds  in  and  out  of  every  opportu- 
nity, gathers  up  all  influences  and  impressions  by  the 
way,  that  make  it  pleasing  as  well  as  powerful,  and 
doubly  powerful  because  it  is  pleasing.  The  speaker  is 
frequently  too  careless  about  the  nice  adjustments  of 
thought.  Content  with  facts  and  principles  that  demand 
assent,  he  fails  to  make  way  for  them,  he  puts  them 
bluntly.  He  forgets  that  conviction,  cheerful  assent,  are 
the  result  of  a  complex  and  growing  process ;  that  atten- 
tion must  be  aroused  by  this  method  and  by  that ;  the 
heart  opened  and  softened  on  this  side  and  on  that ;  and 
that  arguments  are  not  to  be  urged  -till  the  mind  is  ready 
for  them.  It  is  this  delicate  insinuation,  this  patient 
and  affectionate  approach,  that  make  composition  apt 
and  elegant. 
Under  this  relation  of  persons  there  is  a  second 


ELEGANCE,  221 

adaptation  of  discourse  to  the  person  whose  it  is.  Here 
is  naturalness,  the  noble  virtue  of  simplicity,  which 
prompts  to  a  genuine,  frank,  earnest  expression  of  our 
own  convictions.  This  excellence  of  style  rests  chiefly 
on  sincerity,  the  striving  after  an  internal  rather  than 
an  external  end ;  or,  rather,  an  aiming  to  secure  an 
external  effect  by  a  hearty  rendering  of  an  internal 
impression.  Personal  conviction  and  interest  precede 
and  govern  expression ;  the  lips  speak  what  the  mind 
knows  and  feels.  Everything  being  honest  in  the 
mind's  movement,  its  grasp  and  government  of  the 
topic  are  honestly  rendered,  and  whatever  else  the 
treatment  wants,  we  feel  that  it  is  genuine. 

This  penetration  of  action  by  the  character  of  the 
agent  is  far  from  being  disagreeable,  especially  when 
it  arises  unconsciously  and  inevitably  from  the  straight- 
forward way  in  which  thought  has  sprung  up.  This 
grace  comes  unconsciously  into  style,  if  it  comes  at  all, 
and,  like  many  other  qualities,  is  only  to  be  secured  by 
that  radical  culture  which  modifies  and  makes  the  man. 
There  is  no  more  comprehensive  and  just  direction  for 
reaching  true  elegance  than  to  be  frank  and  earnest, 
than  to  have  and  express  a  genuine  life.  It  is  not 
primarily  a  thing  of  polish,  of  courtly  phrase,  found 
oftenest  with  vanity  and  pride.  The  face  that  is  truly 


222  PHILOSOPHY  OF   RHETORIC. 

fine  is  painted  from  within ;  the  style  that  is  truly  ele- 
gant is  formed  and  animated  from  within. 

It  is  life  that  works  best  and  most  beautifully  in  the 
world ;  it  has  merit  in  its  homely  as  well  as  in  its  per- 
fected forms.  An  affected  and  an  imitative  style  are 
directly  opposed  to  this  excellence.  Thus  we  come  back 
again  to  the  truth  that  rhetorical  culture  is  a  profound 
culture  of  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  nature.  A  cer- 
tain simplicity,  sufficiency,  and  sincerity  of  action,  in  one 
direction  or  another,  is  a  condition  on  the  part  of  the 
writer,  of  continuous  pleasure  on  the  part  of  the  reader. 


ENERGY.  223 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ENERGY. 

ENERGY,  the  third  quality  of  style,  expresses  the 
force  and  vigor  of  composition,  —  the  power  with  which 
it  reaches  its  end.  It  is  a  leading  quality  of  discourse, 
since  this  aims  at  an  immediate  and  thorough  effect.  It 
springs  chiefly  from  the  will  and  desires,  and  is  meas- 
ured by  their  strength.  The  desires  so  direct  and  seal 
the  will,  that  the  tenacity  of  the  latter  must  be  deter- 
mined by  the  firmness  of  the  former.  We  speak  of  the 
desires  :  this  language  ought  not,  however,  to  imply  any 
inherent  distinction  in  them.  They  differ  from  each 
other  in  the  objects  which  excite  them,  rather  than  in 
the  feeling  excited.  From  the  very  constitution  of  the 
inind,  it  cannot  be  indifferent  toward  its  own  good,  its 
own  enjoyment.  It  belongs  to  the  very  nature  of  hap- 
piness to  impart  desire,  and  this  desire  logically  extends 
itself  to  all  objects  and  actions  which  are  found  to  be  the 
conditions  of  pleasure. 

We  would  not  say  that  the  desire  conies  first,  and 
that  the  enjoyment  arises  from  its  gratification,  but  that 


224  PHILOSOPHY   OP   RHETORIC. 

certain  appetites  and  powers  furnish  us  pleasure,  and 
that  this  pleasure  inspires  desire  for  the  objects  with 
which  it  is  connected.  The  enjoyments  of  the  mind,  like 
those  of  the  body,  arise  independently  of  the  desires, 
and  enkindle  them.  But  desire,  though  exclusively 
directed  toward  things  capable  of  affording  some  inde- 
pendent pleasure,  is  not  always  proportioned  to  the 
value  thus  attaching  to  them.  It  may,  as  in  avarice, 
acquire  a  constitutional  hold  on  the  mind,  aside  from 
any  good  to  be  realized  in  possession. 

As  the  motive  power  of  life  is  furnished  by  the  appe- 
tites, passions,  and  affections,  the  energy  with  which  the 
mind  is  driven  in  any  direction  must  depend  on  their 
vigor.  The  will  goes  forth  to  determine  and  execute 
what  these  propose  and  prompt ;  the  firmness  of  desires, 
however,  depends  very  much  on  their  character  as  well 
as  on  their  original  strength.  The  appetites  and  pas- 
sions are  more  fluctuating  than  the  affections,  since  they 
have  a  greater  variety  of  objects,  and  are  easily  cloyed. 
The  seeker  after  pleasure  changes  his  specific  purposes, 
since  the  relations  in  which  objects  stand  to  his  gratifica- 
tion are  constantly  changing.  Certain  objects,  which 
are  the  constant  means  of  a  wide  circle  of  enjoyment, — 
indeed,  may  enhance  all  pleasure,  —  are  especially  capa- 
ble, by  their  pervasive  hold  on  desire,  of  calling  forth 
exertion.  Thus  the  desires  for  wealth  and  for  power  are 


ENERGY.  225 

peculiarly  exacting.  Other  desires,  by  the  increasing  and 
noble  character  of  the  good  conferred,  become  more  and 
more  permanent.  Of  this  kind  are  those  for  knowledge 
and  virtue.  The  stability  of  the  desires,  therefore,  will 
depend  much  on  the  character  of  the  thing  pursued. 
The  firmness  secured  by  virtue  has  often  been  evinced, 
when  the  choice  has  been  forced  on  the  mind  between 
that  and  everything  else  —  between  that  and  life. 
The  martyr  has  found  it  a  pleasure  to  cling  to  his 
integrity. 

The  will  also,  like  every  other  power,  is  strengthened 
by  use,  and  weakened  by  inaction  and  defeat.  The 
habits  and  training  of  the  man  will  go  far  to  determine 
his  present  power  of  purpose.  The  uncurbed  and 
desultory  will  is  obstinate  rather  than  strong.  It  works 
with  fitful  and  irregular  energy,  but  does  not  know  how 
to  choose  a  path,  and  rein  every  power  into  it.  It  is 
thus  that  obedience  becomes  the  school  of  command. 
The  just  will  of  another  accepted  lends  regularity  and 
government  to  the  mind,  till  the  purposes  of  the  in- 
dividual, becoming  steady  and  restrained,  are  able  to 
accept  the  authority  made  ready  to  the  hand.  The 
unsteady  impulses  of  the  feelings  must  find  a  balance- 
wheel  somewhere,  must  be  subjected  to  the  discreet  and 
powerful  influence  of  some  ruling  desire,  before  the 
mind  can  respond  with  steady  energy  to  the  demands 
10*  O 


226  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

made  upon  it.  The  mind  must  come  under  dominion, 
government,  before  it  can  be  an  effective  instrument  for 
obtaining  government.  Energy  is  the  pressure  of 
•disciplined  impulses. 

Though  energy  in  action  and  energy  in  speech  are 
essentially  the  same,  in  the  mental  constitution  and 
training  which  they  imply,  they  are  not  so  in  the 
desires  which  nourish  them.  The  pursuit  of  wealth  and 
of  power  bears  no  comparison  with  that  of  virtue  in  the 
aid  which  it  renders  discourse.  A  man  may  work 
most  vigorously  within  the  line  of  his  own  interests^ 
but  the  motives  which  govern  him  are  so  far  selfish  and 
limited.  They  can,  therefore,  rarely  be  urged  upon 
others,  and  must  often  be  hidden  from  them.  Selfish 
aims  less  frequently  than  benevolent  ones  seek  the  aid 
of  discourse,  and  furnish  much  less  of  its  material. 
The  speaker  who  pursues  private  ends  must  either 
appeal  to  selfish  impulses  which  make  a  poor  appear- 
ance, and  are  more  or  less  in  conflict  and  self-destruc- 
tive, or  he  must  go  out  of  the  range  of  his  own  desires 
in  finding  the  means  of  persuasion,  and  thus  lose  much 
of  the  zeal  and  energy  with  which  the  topic  ought  to  be 
urged ;  or  he  must  disguise  and  misrepresent  the  motives 
of  action,  and  involve  himself  in  all  the  tortuous,  per- 
plexed paths  of  evil.  Those  desires,  therefore,  which 
are  fitted  to  infuse  life  into  oratory,  to  inspire  and 


ENERGY.  227 

impassion  poetry  even,  must  have  breadth,  philan- 
thropy, and  virtue  in  them,  or  they  cannot  address 
common  interests,  or  enkindle  common  feelings.  The 
great  ideas  of  justice,  the  public  weal,  liberty,  and 
virtue  must  fully  penetrate  the  mind,  arouse  the  heart, 
and  furnish  the  desires  those  objects  fitted  to  call  forth 
and  nourish  speech.  According  to  the  intensity  of  the 
desire  with  which  common  ends,  the  interests  of  public 
and  private  well-being,  are  pursued,  will  be  the  energy 
of  discourse.  Virtue  must  rely  chiefly  on  persuasion, 
and  has  ever  at  hand  the  means,  and  also  the  motives  to 
employ  it.  That  training  which  deepens  and  strengthens 
virtuous  desire,  and  brings  the  will  under  its  steady 
government,  gives  to  the  man,  in  its  most  reliable  form, 
all  the  working  power  of  his  nature,  impresses  all  his 
words  with  his  own  life,  his  own  energy. 

The  definiteness  of  the  immediate-  end  chosen  also 
adds  to  strength.  A  clear  perception  of  the  connection 
and  order  of  means  by  which  a  distant  object  is  to  be 
reached  is  most  requisite  to  settled,  decisive  effort. 
While  feeling  impels,  it  cannot  take  the  place  of  clear, 
explicit  guidance.  On  the  distinctness  with  which  the 
immediate  effect  is  conceived,  and  its  relations  to  an 
ultimate  good,  will  depend  the  directness  and  efficiency 
of  the  means  employed.  Severe  and  logical  disci- 
pline of  the  faculties  gives  precision,  and  thus  energy, 


228  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

to  their  action.  It  is  here  pulpit  oratory  often  fails. 
The  general,  generic  end  of  virtue  is  not  clearly  enough 
resolved  into  the  specific  objects  which  it  includes, 
which  are  means  to  it.  The  aim  is  not  definite 
enough  to  arouse  and  concentrate  the  mind.  The 
argument  and  the  application  are  general,  and  fail  of 
the  pungency  of  more  pointed  discourse.  The  specific 
end  should  share  the  elevation  of  the  general  aim, 
and  the  general  aim  be  sought  with  the  directness  of  a 
specific  purpose.  To  such  disciplined  desires  every 
subject  yields  its  strength ;  the  sinewy  parts  rise  to  the 
surface  as  when  an  athlete  wrestles. 

Energy,  according  to  the  kind  and  aim  of  composi- 
tion, assumes  three  forms  —  strength,  vivacity,  and 
vigor.  Every  thoroughly  logical  process  has  in  it  the 
energy  of  strength.  The  premises  and  conclusions  are 
wrought  into  each  other,  and  the  mind  is  pushed 
irresistibly  forward.  It  may  refuse  to  think,  but 
while  true  to  itself,  it  cannot  escape  conviction.  This 
is  the  native  energy  of  thought  —  of  truth  perspicu- 
ously stated. 

At  another  time  energy  softens  down  into  the 
vivacity  of  the  imagination  when  aroused  and  warmed 
by  feeling.  It  becomes  poetical  inspiration,  an  impas- 
sioned frame  of  mind,  throwing  rapidly  into  life-like 
forms  the  objects  of  contemplation. 


ENERGY.  229 

Energy,  in  its  strongest  character,  is  that  vigor  with 
which  a  purpose  is  conceived  and  executed ;  with  which 
principles  are  shaped  into  proof,  and  pushed  into 
conviction,  by  which  deep  feeling  is  thrown  into 
strong  currents,  compelling  action.  The  first  two 
forms  arise  respectively  under  the  intellect  and  the 
feelings ;  the  third  includes  these,  and  carries  them 
forward  in  the  pursuit  of  a  purpose :  it  is  the  whole 
man  developed  into  action. 

The  qualities  of  thought  by  which  energy  in  com- 
position is  secured  are  thoroughness,  rapidity,  and 
directness.  Thoroughness  starts  the  movement  with 
acknowledged  principles,  and  so  far  leaves  no  oppor- 
tunity for  retreat.  These  it  unfolds  consecutively,  and, 
by  steady  approaches,  forces  and  secures  each  position. 
Without  that  vigor  of  thought  by  which  the  whole 
subject  is  brought  into  the  light,  no  absolute  proof 
can  be  reached;  and  proof  is  the  foundation  of  all 
strength.  Darkness  always  affords  a  lurking  place 
for  doubt.  Within  the  intellect,  that  light  must  be 
kindled  which  is  to  justify  and  guide  every  step. 

So  far  as  the  condition  of  insight  will  suffer  it,  the 
movement  of  thought  must  be  rapid.  Rapidity  marks 
energy,  and  imparts  it.  He  who  is  in  earnest  will  not 
tarry  long.  To  linger  in  any  part  of  the  topic  cools 
the  feelings,  induces  a  meditative  or  a  listless  state,  and 


230  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

results  in  rest,  not  action.  The  progress  must  be 
sufficient  to  excite  and  maintain  a  glow  of  feeling. 
Especially  must  there  be  a  tendency  to  accelerated 
motion  as  the  end  of  the  discourse  is  approached.  The 
earlier  parts  are  more  deliberative,  and  involve  proof: 
this  being  furnished,  the  mind  is  warmed  into  conviction, 
and  now  justifies  to  itself  the  haste  of  feeling.  The 
speaker  must,  inevitably,  as  principles  are  unfolded  in 
their  immediate  application,  gather  the  interest  and 
earnestness  of  a  present  undertaking :  this  growth  of 
feeling  is  requisite  to  carry  the  audience  over  all  obsta- 
cles into  the  'desired  action.  Nothing  can  be  more 
destructive  of  persuasion  than  the  loss  of  feeling  as  the 
discourse  progresses.  Whenever  the  highest  point  is 
reached,  the  power,  as  then  greatest,  should  be  turned  to 
the  work  in  hand.  The  movement  in  the  outset  may  be 
slow,  and  even  a  little  tedious,  without  serious  injury ; 
but  at  the  end  it  must  be  accelerated,  earnest,  impetuous. 
It  becomes  an  important  caution,  not,  in  the  beginning, 
to  arouse  the  emotions  when  they  must  of  necessity 
fall  away,  nor  to  prolong  discourse  when  it  has  been 
ripened  for  the  end.  This  concentration  of  discourse 
by  a  uniformly  accelerated  movement,  by  a  growth  and 
accumulation  of  feeling,  is  one  of  the  highest  powers 
of  oratory,  and,  when  united  with  directness,  makes  its 
effect  well  nigh  irresistible.  Without  it  there  is  no 


ENERGY.  231 

moral  momentum,  no  enthusiasm.  This  rapidity  is 
almost  sure  to  arise  when  argument  is  infused  with 
feeling,  and  employed  solely  for  the  end  in  view.  A 
languid  state,  or  a  nervous  desire  to  say  all  that  can  be 
said,  is  inevitably  destructive  of  it. 

A  third  characteristic  of  energetic  thought  is  direct- 
ness. The  movement  is  not  only  thorough  and  rapid, — 
it  is  in  a  straight  line  through  the  most  efficient  motives 
to  the  immediate  end.  Each  thing  that  is  said  is  not 
only  pertinent  to  the  topic,  but  to  the  object  in  view ; 
is  presented  not  only  with  vivacity,  but  in  its  direct 
bearings  on  the  action  at  issue.  Directness  is  especially 
characteristic  of  oratory ;  since  this  kind  of  composition 
receives  its  form  from  an  immediate,  external  end,  and 
must  discern  and  shape  itself  to  the  right  line  by  which 
this  is  reached. 

Discourse  may  lose  its  directness  by  an  undue  enlarge- 
ment of  either  of  the  means  it  employs.  Argument  and 
feeling,  the  intellectual  and  emotional  elements,  are  each 
with  oratory  simply  and  purely  means  to  an  end,  and 
therefore  to  be  governed  by  it.  Either  of  these  ele- 
ments is  liable,  through  the  constitutional  bias  of  the 
speaker,  through  vanity,  through  weakness  or  uncer- 
tainty of  purpose,  to  break  from  its  proper  restraint,  and 
become  a  primary  instead  of  a  subsidiary  aim.  Dis- 
course may  be  too  logical,  too  reflective,  too  analytic, 


232  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

may  occupy  the  mind  with  subtle  distinctions,  and  dis- 
place the  admissions  of  the  popular  mind  with  intricate 
and  superfluous  proof.  It  thus  becomes  philosophical, 
instead  of  oratorical,  entangles  itself  in  secondary 
matter,  and  weakens  the  power  of  the  whole.  It  cheats 
itself  with  a  partial,  when  a  complete  success  was  before 
it.  This  is  the  constant  danger  of  the  educated  and 
reflective  mind.  It  loves  truth  and  doctrine  too  much 
for  their  own  sakes.  It  delights  itself,  and  strives  to 
delight  others,  with  speculative  relations,  with  its  own 
views  in  a  strictly  intellectual  realm.  It  seems  a  clip- 
ping and  humbling  of  knowledge  to  employ  it  solely  as 
an  instrument  for  daily  uses,  never  to  bring  it  before  the 
audience  for  its  own  sake,  for  the  intrinsic  perfection 
of  its  interior  relations.  The  mind  that  worships  truth 
is  slow  to  make  it  a  servant,  that  it  may  wash  the 
bruised  feet  of  the  way-worn  traveller.  Yet  the  desire 
of  substituting  an  intellectual  for  a  practical  end  must 
be  perfectly  overcome,  before  the  mind  is  ready  for 
oratory.  It  must  devote  —  I  will  not  say  humble  — 
all  its  resources  unreservedly  and  unhesitatingly  to  the 
end  in  view. 

The  second  element,  that  of  emotion,  may  be  turned 
from  the  task  assigned  it,  and  employed  for  an  esthetic 
end.  The  composition  thus  becomes  poetical  rather 
than  oratorical,  and  though  much  feeling  may  be  aroused. 


ENERGY.  238 

much  interest  elicited,  they  are  put  to  no  use.  The 
audience  are  pleased,  but  character  and  conduct  remain 
the  same.  The  imagination  has  free  scope,  the  heart  is 
feasted,  but  the  will  is  not  nerved.  The  emasculated 
oration  does  the  work  of  a  novel.  This  error  of  dis- 
course arises  often  from  the  vanity  of  the  speaker,  and 
nourishes  the  indolence  of  all  parties.  It  becomes  fatal 
according  to  the  greatness  and  urgency  of  the  end  pro- 
posed. It  is,  therefore,  in  pulpit  oratory  especially, 
the  most  inexcusable  of  faults. 

It  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  that  oratory  is  chiefly  to 
be  judged  by  its  immediate  effect,  and,  therefore,  that 
any  symmetry  of  parts,  or  finish  of  execution,  that 
weakens  the  impression,  is  a  fault,  rather  than  an  excel- 
lence. Argument  and  ornament,  matter  and  style, 
must  submit  themselves  to  the  purpose  of  the  speaker. 
Interior  perfection  in  an  instrument  is  of  little  value, 
if  it  does  not  serve  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  made. 
There  is  at  this  point  often  prevalent  a  very  false  taste. 
A  certain  classical  excellence  is  aimed  at,  as  if  there 
were  in  this  more  true  merit  than  in  the  patient  sub- 
mission of  the  theme  and  the  method  to  the  wants  of 
those  addressed.  Efficiency  and  elegance,  when  rightly 
understood,  rest  on  the  same  quality  —  a  nice  adjust- 
ment of  discourse  to  its  object.  No  useful  thing  can  be 
commended  by  taste  till  there  is  found  in  it  a  perfect 


234  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KHETOEIC. 

discharge  of  its  offices.     It  is  under  this  law,  that  ita 
beauty  is  to  be  realized. 

The  most  submissive  oratory  is  animated  by  the 
noblest  impulses.  There  is  in  it  no  display,  no  dalliance 
with  poetical  delights,  no  indulgence  of  philosophy, 
but  a  cheerful,  earnest  prosecution  of  labor,  the  evoking 
and  strengthening  of  right  impulses  in  others.  Rebuke 
does  not  become  harsh,  nor  wit  scathing,  nor  opinion 
sensorious,  nor  imagination  prodigal ;  but  love  softens 
and  blends  all,  and  with  genial,  vital  warmth,  carries 
the  truth  over  to  the  intellects  and  hearts  of  men.  In 
this  oratory  of  practical  benevolence,  this  thorough  per- 
meation of  every  word  with  a  generous  and  hearty  pur- 
pose, there  is  far  more  life  and  true  elegance  than  can 
possibly  be  reached  in  the  cold  realm  of  artistic  effort. 
Since  oratory  cannot  much  enlarge  itself  in  the  region 
of  mere  selfishness,  but  must  seek  common  and  broad 
interests,  philanthropy — a  just  estimate  and  love  of  men 
— will  always  be  its  unconscious  vital  power,  and  any  form 
of  self-assertion  its  danger.  It  is  love  which  removes 
anger,  the  irritating  edge  of  censure;  love  that  finds 
secondary  and  less  worthy  motives,  and  unites  them 
under  the  higher  motive;  love  that  turns  all  influence 
into  persuasion,  and  directs  that  persuasion  towards  vir- 
tue. This  is  most  obviously  and  thoroughly  true  of 
pulpit  oratory.  We  doubt  not,  however,  that  a  great 


ENERGY.  235 

difficulty  with  discourse  in  other  forms  is,  that  it  is  too 
often  made  to  turn  on  limited  and  selfish  ends,  that  the 
mind  is  too  contracted  and  personal  in  its  aims  to  dis- 
cover the  true  strength  of  the  subject.  The  popular 
mind  quickly  feels  and  yields  to  the  steady  pressure 
of  a  benevolent  purpose. 

Energetic  thought  possesses  in*  a  greater  or  less 
degree  these  three  elements  —  thoroughness,  rapidity, 
and  directness ;  and  as,  in  turn,  each  is  preeminent,  that 
energy  will  assume  the  form  of  strength,  of  vivacity,  or 
of  vigor.  Thoroughness  is  more  an  intellectual  quality ; 
this  predominating,  we  have  the  strength  of  the  logician. 
Rapidity  arises  from  the  flexibility  and  life  of  feeling ; 
this  in  the  ascendency  gives  the  vivacity  of  poetry. 
Directness  is  dependent  on  the  fixedness  of  desire  and 
will ;  this  controlling,  we  have  the  vigor  of  the  orator. 
In  no  production  are  these  qualities  so  fully  contained, 
and  evenly  adjusted,  as  in  oratory. 

We  have  now  to  speak  of  the  more  external  charac- 
teristics of  an  energetic  style.  Here  we  have  occasion 
for  the  divisions  employed  under  perspicuity,  though 
each  is  considered  from  a  different  point.  The  energy 
of  language  will  depend  on  the  choice,  number,  and 
arrangement  of  words.  It  is  obvious  in  the  outset, 
that  the  strengtli  of  style  will  be  closely  connected  with 
the  precision  of  the  words  chosen.  This,  however,  has 


236  PHILOSOPHY   OP   RHETORIC. 

been  sufficiently  referred  to  under  "Perspicuity."  The 
vivacity  of  the  expression  will  depend  very  much  on 
speciality.  The  most  specific,  individual  word  is  to  be 
chosen  as  opposed  to  the  more  general,  generic  word. 
The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  The  one  word  contains  a 
complete  description,  a  precise  image,  and  the  imagina- 
tion at  once  constructs  the  picture :  the  other  word 
includes  the  object  or  action  with  many  others,  and 
therefore  defines  none  of  them  perfectly.  The  imagina- 
tion does  no  more  than  the  word,  and  leaves  the  picture 
vague  and  general.  To  say,  "He  shoved  the  boat  from 
the  shore,"  is  descriptive  of  the  manner  of  the  action  ;  to 
say,  "He  removed  the  boat  from  the  shore,"  tells  us 
nothing  of  the  method,  but  only  the  fact.  We  need, 
as  much  as  possible,  to  deal  with  concrete,  living 
things,  and  not  with  abstractions;  we  wish,  then,  the 
individual,  not  the  generic  word.  Science  loves  to 
overlook  differences,  and  limit  its  view  to  single  points 
of  agreement,  and  thus  constructs  the  skeleton  of  phi- 
losophy ;  poetry  and  life  reverse  the  process,  and  reclothe 
objects  with  their  distinctive  features  and  beauties.  A 
scientific  style  has  not  enough  imagination  in  it,  enough 
nearness  to  living  things,  enough  vivacity,  to  animate 
and  please  the  popular  mind. 

The  vigor  of  expression  will  depend  on  the  strength 
of  the  words    chosen.     The   word    must   be    adequate 


ENERGY.  237 

to  tlie  office  it  has  to  discharge.  Weak  words  can- 
not be  the  vehicle  of  strong  emotion.  The  strength 
of  the  word  is  principally  to  be  determined  by  the  feel- 
ing it  is  called  to  utter.  We  are  not  confined  to 
a  simple  statement  of  facts,  but,  in  our  language  con- 
cerning them,  may  also  express  the  emotions  which  they 
have  aroused.  Speech  thus  frequently  employs  hyper- 
bole, and  carries  the  word  beyond  the  fact,  seeking  thus 
to  reveal  the  impression  it  has  made  upon  the  mind. 
The  vigorous  speaker  searches  for  strong,  full  words  to 
convey  his  own  conception  of  the  subject. 

This  sort  of  energy  is  often  sought  by  language  dis- 
proportionate to  the  occasion.  There  are  two  things  to 
be  expressed  —  the  facts,  and  the  feelings  concerning 
them.  Language  which  is  true  to  either  of  these  can- 
not be  greatly  at  fault.  As  it  is  easier,  however,  to 
compass  heroic  expression  than  heroic  feeling,  strong 
words  than  delicate  and  profound  sensibilities,  an  effort 
is  often  and  most  ineffectively  made  to  replace  the  latter 
with  the  former.  The  overstrained  expression,  losing 
application  and  honesty,  becomes  the  mere  semblance 
of  strength,  and  in  the  end  most  false  and  wearisome. 
No  style  is  more  thoroughly  weak  than  one  unduly 
strong,  as  no  feelings  are  usually  more  vapid  than  those 
which  dwell  in  hyperbole. 

This    is    seen    in    asseverations   and   epithets.      The 


238  PHILOSOPHY   OP   RHETORIC. 

strongest  and  most  stable  authority  expresses  its  com- 
mands in  the  most  simple  and  direct  form.  In  proportion 
as  threat,  expostulation,  and  assurance  are  added,  do  we 
distrust  the  power,  or  the  intention  of  execution. 
Strength,  firmness,  and  truth  are  too  self-confident  to 
make  much  ado.  A  statement  that  is  enforced  with  many 
asseverations,  in  its  very  form  indicates  a  conscious- 
ness of  weakness.  A  heavy  prop  against  a  building 
gives  promise  of  a  fall,  though  we  may  not  yet  detect 
the  seams.  This  principle,  however,  suffers  limitation. 
There  is  admissible  a  dignified  and  proper  assertion  of 
what  in  itself  seems  doubtful.  The  mind  may  thus 
mark  the  certainty  of  the  thing,  and  the  depth  of  its 
own  conviction. 

An  epithet  is  an  adjective  which  expresses  a  quality 
wrell  known  to  exist  in  the  noun  to  which  it  is  attached. 
Thus  the  adjective  glorious,  as  applied  to  the  sun,  is  an 
epithet.  Such  adjectives  convey  no  information,  and 
are  used  to  magnify  the  noun,  to  distend  and  impress  the 
idea.  They  have,  therefore,  only  rare  application,  and 
are  the  constant  resort  of  weak  and  trite  thought.  The 
office  of  language  is  to  utter  what  is  in  the  idea,  not  to 
magnify  it  into  something  other  or  more  than  itself. 
Strong  thinking  is  more  essential  to  strong  expres- 
sion than  strong  expression  to  strong  thinking.  The 
mind  is  often  best  pleased  with  simple  and  subdued 


ENERGY.  239 

language,   when   the   magnitude  of  the   thought   alone 
occupies  it. 

A  second  consideration  is  the  number  of  words.  En- 
ergy, even  more  than  perspicuity,  is  dependent  on  con- 
ciseness. Without  it  there  cannot  be  that  rapidity 
of  movement,  that  concentration  of  force,  mentioned 
above.  Yet  strength  is  not  gained  by  condensation, 
when  this  proceeds  in  the  least  beyond  the  limits  of 
perspicuity.  In  the  essay,  the  demands  of  perspicuity 
and  energy  are  essentially  the  same.  In  the  discourse, 
the  aim  is  much  more  frequently  to  enforce  that  which 
is  familiar  than  to  present  that  which  is  new.  Every- 
thing must  be  judged  by  the  impression  it  makes, 
not  by  its  logical  relations  to  that  which  has  preceded. 
It  is  not  so  much  the  return  of  ideas,  that  is  now  to 
be  guarded  against,  as  the  repetition  of  trite,  unim- 
pressive forms.  The  actual  advance  of  the  idea  in 
the  new  sentence,  the  new  illustration,  may  be  very 
small,  and  yet  the  gain  to  the  feelings  be  quite  per- 
ceptible. Amplification  —  the  power  to  unfold  on 
diverse  sides  and  in  diverse  directions  a  single  car- 
dinal thought,  till  it  occupies  the  mind  and  resumea 
its  hold  on  the  heart  —  is  a  chief  excellence  of  oratory. 
Progress  —  a  rapid  passing  from  idea  to  idea  —  becomes 
in  a  measure  dangerous :  there  is  no  hold  secured  by 
the  topic.  The  mind  needs  to  dwell,  without  halting, 


240  PHILOSOPHY   OF   RHETORIC. 

on  a  thought,  till  its  practical  bearings  are  fully  im- 
pressed upon  it.  It  is  with  our  most  familiar  ideas 
that  oratory  has  chiefly  to  do  —  from  these  that  its 
motives  are  derived.  A  mere  statement,  therefore,  of 
what  is  already  more  or  less  present  to  the  mind,  will 
make  but  little  impression.  The  subject  must  be  taken 
up  anew,  the  half-forgotten  path  retrodden,  and  the 
topic  brought  home  with  fresh  and  living  impressions. 
Mere  repetitions  will  not  accomplish  this ;  no  more  will 
unceasing  transition  from  thought  to  thought.  A  single, 
central  idea  is  to  renew  its  hold  on  the  mind ;  and  this 
can  only  be  done  by  a  treatment  which  amplifies  the 
subject  and  clings  to  it.  Novelty  and  instruction  are 
only  the  occasional,  not  the  habitual,  aids  of  oratory. 
Our  progress,  then,  is  not  to  be  measured  in  the  straight 
line  of  logic,  but  in  the  growth  of  feeling.  Monotony, 
diffuseness,  tread  the  same  circle  round  and  round ; 
power,  conciseness,  return  again  and  again  to  the  thought, 
but  from  an  advanced,  a  higher  point.  The  mind  as- 
cends along  a  spiral  to  the  culminating  impression  aimed 
at.  Oratory  does  not  differ  from  other  forms  of  compo- 
sition in  not  requiring  conciseness,  but  in  determining 
what  is  concise  or  otherwise  by  the  exigencies  of  feeling, 
and  not  of  thought.  All  that  does  not  bear  the  emotions 
onward,  even  though  it  occupy  the  thoughts,  encumbers 
the  discourse,  and  is  an  extra  burden  to  be  borne  by  it. 


ENERGY.  241 

The  faults  most  commonly  opposed  to  conciseness  are 
tautology,  pleonasm,  and  verbosity.  These  words,  as 
usually  employed,  do  not  exclusively  denote  faulty  forma 
of  expression.  A  sentence  may  be  tautological,  pleo- 
nastic, or  verbose,  when  judged  merely  by  the  thought, 
and  yet  thereby  be  the  more  vigorous.  Intense  passion 
is,  from  its  very  nature,  tautological ;  it  clings  to  the 
object  of  contemplation.  Many  words  are  thrown  into 
a  sentence,  not  to  amplify  the  thought,  but  to  modify 
our  feelings  concerning  it.  "  Shall  not  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  do  right  ?  "  is  a  familiar  example.  If,  therefore, 
we  are  to  use  these  words  to  denote  faults  exclusively, 
we  must  have  reference  both  to  thought  and  impression. 
Tautology  thus  becomes  unnecessary  repetition.  This, 
by  a  slight  change  of  words,  is  often  disguised  from 
the  writer  himself.  An  event,  with  a  modification  of 
expression,  is  assigned  as  the  cause  or  the  effect  of 
itself. 

Pleonasm  is  the  use  of  superfluous  words,  and  is  cor- 
rected by  excision ;  verbosity,  a  cumbersome  expression, 
to  be  corrected  by  restatement.  Verbosity  differs  from 
verbiage.  The  one  is  a  reflection  on  the  style,  the  other 
on  the  thought. 

What  has  been  said  requires  this  further  caution,  that 
impression  is  less  frequently  reached  by  lengthy  forms 
and  an  accumulation  of  words  than  is  often  supposed. 
11  p 


242  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

A  heavily-laden  style  is  almost  sure  to  be  feeble.  Bet- 
ter occasionally  to  fall  short  of  perspicuity  than  often  to 
transcend  it.  At  this  point  a  knowledge  of  men  and 
occasions,  with  a  mastery  of  the  topic  and  a  practical 
interest  in  it,  can  alone  save  from  error.  Our  knowl- 
edge prevents  diffuse  and  weak  handling ;  our  interest 
in  results  corrects  unimpassioned  and  protracted  proof. 

A  third  consideration  in  energy  is  the  arrangement  of 
words.  All  parts  of  the  sentence  are  not  equally  prom- 
inent, equally  important.  The  more  weighty  words, 
therefore,  must,  as  far  as  possible,  be  assigned  the  more 
emphatic  positions.  These  are  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  the  sentence,  especially  the  latter.  A  significant 
and  pregnant  word  should  gather  up  and  close  the  asser- 
tion, and  give  the  sentence  a  full  cadence.  Pains  must 
also  be  taken  to  scatter  and  conceal  particles  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  sentence.  They  thus  become  less  conspicuous, 
and  less  interrupt  the  flow  of  the  thought.  It  is  fre- 
quently forgotten  that  the  very  succession  of  sentences 
sufficiently  marks  many  forms  of  dependence,  and  ren- 
ders introductory  conjunctions  unnecessary. 

Inversion,  also,  not  merely  because  it  assigns  an  im- 
portant position  to  an  emphatic  word,  but  because  it  is 
inversion,  often  gives  freshness  and  power  to  the  expres- 
sion. Yet  this,  like  all  unusual  methods,  can  only  be 
occasionally  employed.  Style  becomes  affected  and 


ENERGY.  243 

quaint   if  inversion  passes  much  beyond  wlat  custom 
sanctions. 

Under  the  arrangement  of  words  belongs  the  division 
of  sentences  into  the  period,  and  loose  sentence.  The 
criterion  of  the  former  is,  that  if  a  pause  be  made  at  any 
point  before  the  end,  the  meaning  is  not  complete.  The 
reverse  is  true  in  the  loose  sentence.  The  dependence 
in  the  former  is  reciprocal  between  the  earlier  and  later 
parts ;  in  the  loose  sentence  the  later  portions  may  be 
dependent  on  the  earlier,  but  the  earlier  are  not  depen- 
dent on  the  later. 

The  period  retains  the  idea  till  it  closes,  and  then 
brings  it  at  once  before  the  mind.  Its  force,  like  that 
of  the  hammer,  is  stored  up  till  the  last  instant,  and 
then  delivered  in  a  blow.  There  belong  to  it  strength 
and  dignity.  The  loose  sentence  is  more  easy,  and,  if 
not  long,  more  vivacious.  If  either  predominates  in 
style,  its  character  will  become  correspondingly  affected. 
The  period  is  too  formal  for  the  highest  energy,  which 
requires  a  more  simple  and  curt  expression.  The  more 
marked  and  impressive  any  method,  as  a  carefully 
wrought  climax,  the  less  can  it  become  an  ever-return- 
ing method^  The  direct  and  unobtrusive  forms  must  be 
the  staple  of  composition.  Style  should  be  left,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  the  spontaneous  action  of  thought;  $ 
afterward,  in  its  critical  consideration,  sentences  should 


244  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RHETORIC. 

be  recast,  as  variety  and  harmony  may  require.  The 
inventive  and  critical  states  of  mind  are  too  distinct  to 
coexist.  The  one  should  follow  the  other,  till  the  cor- 
rected becomes  the  habitual  style  of  expression. 

Energy  will  also  depend  on  the  figures  employed. 
Tropical  terms  are  a  constant  instrument  of  the  impas- 
sioned mind.  A  trope  is  the  use  of  one  word  for  an- 
other on  the  ground  of  some  connection  between  the  two 
ideas  indicated  by  them.  The  connections  on  which 
tropes  proceed  are  very  various,  and  have  given  rise  to 
many  technical  names.  The  correct  use  of  these  may 
call  for  some  analysis,  and  thus  discipline  the  mind,  but 
cannot  serve  any  very  important  rhetorical  purpose.  The 
pinciples  which  include  tropes  in  all  their  varieties  are 
essentially  the  same.  By  means  of  this  natural  and 
inevitable  association  and  substitution  of  ideas,  style 
gains  many  obvious  advantages.  The  eye  has  under  its 
range  all  adjacent  fields,  and  by  some  connection  of 
resemblance,  or  dependence,  or  partnership,  suddenly 
forsakes  the  thing  spoken  of,  and  puts  as  its  repre- 
sentative a  more  fresh  and  glowing  image.  The  fancy 
is  winged  ;  it  moves  everywhere,  and  plucks  every  flower 
for  its  wreath.  The  subject  cannot  languish,  since  all 
related  themes  minister  to  its  illustration  and  embellish- 
ment. A  constant  succession  of  images  arouses  and 
pleases  the  mind.  The  barrenness  of  one  point  is  re- 


ENERGY.  245 

Sieved  by  the  freshness  of  another,  and  from  all  sides 
;ome  trooping  in  the  dramatis  personal. 

The  mind  is  interested  by  the  resemblance  or  connec- 
tion of  ideas ;  the  light  of  comparison  is  thrown  upon 
the  subject ;  a  more  striking  is  substituted  for  a  less 
striking  object,  the  animate  for  the  inanimate,  things 
sensible  for  things  intelligible,  the  specific  for  the  gen- 
eral. The  abstract  nature  of  the  subject  is  thus  evaded, 

s 

and  the  imagination  brought  into  full  play.  All  this  is 
accomplished  without  the  addition  of  a  single  word.  The 
rapid,  free,  and  often  brilliant  way  in  which  the  trope 
does  its  work  has  drawn  much  attention  to  it,  and 
assigned  it  a  conspicuous  position  in  rhetoric. 

"I  love  the  man,  I  hate  the  viceroy,"  makes  the  scene 
animate  throughout.  The  imagination,  by  a  bold  effort, 
evokes  from  one  two  distinct  persons,  and  sets  them^over 
against  each  other  as  objects  of  affection  and  aversion. 
The  fancy  thus  clothes  every  subject  with  the  vivid  im- 
agery suggested  by  its  attributes,  and  moves  constantly 
In  a  world  of  living  and  related  things.  Tropes  are  the 
product  and  food  of  passion.  To  one's  own  faults  we 
add  the  historic  infamy  of  an  Arnold  or  a  Judas  by  a 
simple  designation  under  these  hated  names. 

Adjectives,  nouns,  verbs,  and  adverbs  are  vehicles  of 
tropical  expression.  The  action  we  affirm  of  an  object, 


246  PHILOSOPHY  OP  RHETORIC. 

the  qualities  we  assign  it,  at  once  give  distinctness  and 
character  to  the  image.  Verbs  and  adjectives  cannot  be 
too  carefully  chosen.  The  right  appellative  is  a  sentence 
in  itself. 

Tropes  are  partially  subject  to  use.  This  is  shown  in 
the  fact  that  they  cannot  be  fully  transferred  from  lan- 
guage to  language,  nor  from  one  term  to  a  kindred  one 
in  the  same  language.  The  string  of  discourse  cannot 
be  used  for  the  thread  of  discourse ;  nor,  It  rounds  with 
my  idea,  for,  It  squares  with  my  idea.  Tropes  have  all 
degrees  of  vivacity  —  sometimes  shooting  the  most  bril- 
liant light,  sbmetimes  scarcely  luminous.  This  arises 
from  a  difference  in  original  aptness,  and  from  the  fact 
that  a  trope,  by  repetition,  rapidly  loses  its  power,  till 
at  length  it  has  only  the  force  of  a  proper  term.  When 
the  word  becomes  directly  associated  with  its  new  idea, 
the  original  connection  is  lost  sight  of,  and  the  term 
sinks  into  the  growing  ranks  of  simply  grammatical 
tropes.  Just  at  the  transition  period,  and  a  little  before 
it,  the  trope  is  even  more  trite  than  the  proper  term. 
There  is  a  certain  worn-out  gentility  about  it  that  puts 
it  to  disadvantage  with  plain  homespun.  Good  tropes 
or  none  should  be  the  general  rule.  When  the  road 
becomes  a  little  weary,  the  more  direct  we  make  it  the 
better.  Tropes  may  readily  so  overload  the  subject  with 


ENERGY.  247 

imagery  as  to  distract  the  mind ;  or,  possessing  it  with  a 
poetic  intoxication,  unfit  it  for  stern,  straightforward 
movement.  A  few  clarion  notes  startle  the  ear  more 
than  a  constant  bray  of  trumpets.  Simplicity  is  the 
fundamental  rule  everywhere,  above  all,  with  energetic 
working  thoughts. 

Among  other  figures  which  energy  often  employs  may 
be  mentioned  hyperbole,  personification,  apostrophe. 
These  are  all  the  offspring  of  passion  —  the  means  which 
it  has  found  of  expression.  Hence  the  rule  for  them  all 
becomes  the  same :  That  the  feeling  of  the  speaker  and 
the  audience  must  make  them  natural.  Otherwise,  they 
are  ridiculous. 

The  highest  energy  in  discourse  will  not  suffer  read- 
ing. There  is  a  want  of  spontaneous  and  immediate 
impression,  of  perfect  and  impassioned  connection  with 
the  audience  and  occasion,  of  free,  reciprocal  action 
between  the  speaker  and  listener,  which  cannot  be  wholly 
overcome.  This  is  most  obvious  in  those  figures  of  dis- 
course which  seem  to  be  the  insight  and  inspiration  of 
the  moment  —  the  glow  of  the  mind  that  utters  them. 
They  need  to  be  sustained  by  the  supposition,  that  they 
have  just  flashed  upon  the  thought.  It  is  evident  that 
the  highest  directness  and  warmth  can  be  given  to 
speech  only  when  it  is,  or  seems  to  be,  the  communica- 
tion of  our  immediate  sentiments.  Nature  and  cultiva- 


248  PHILOSOPHY   OF  RHETORIC. 

tion,  the  thoughtful  judgments  of  the  past,  and  the 
inspiration  of  the  present,  unite  in  the  oration  to  pro- 
duce a  powerful  and  impassioned  product  —  the  fulness 
of  rhetorical  effort,  the  ripest  fruit  of  our  intellectual 
and  moral  life. 


APPENDIX. 


PHILOLOGY.— (Chapter  VL,  pp.  125-152.) 

I.  (p.  129.)  Phonetic  change  :    (1)  Lich  or  like  to  ly, 
as  truly,  goodly,  lovely  ;  whilk  to  which,  swilk  to  such. 
(2)  Shortening   of  words,   as  alms  from  eleemosynary, 
learnt  from  learn-did,  eschaunge  to  exchange,  everich 
to  every,  Magdalen  to  Maudlin,  el  lagarto  to  alligator, 
sample    (from    example),    huzzy   (housewife),    grunsel 
(groundsill),  fortnight  (fourteen-night). 

II.  Words  and  letters  grown  obsolete  :  Vailing,  fore- 
spurrer,  anon,  yclept,  'em  (for  them),  parle,  climature, 
precurse,  wot,  an,  bit  (bade),  can  (know  how  to),  en- 
tame,  entayld,  throughly,  peize. 

Often,    soften,  \\glii,    night,   au^t,    bdellium,  g/^ost, 
mnemonic,  ^sa?m. 

III.  Meaning  changed  :  Let  (to  hinder),  prevent  (to 
come   before),   admirable    (wonderful),  brave    (showy), 
monument  (a  tomb),  remorse  (pity),  conscience  (knowl- 
edge), rival  (companion),  jump  (just),  umimproved  (un- 
proved), extravagant  (wandering),  unimagined  (imagin- 
able), probation  (proof),  takes  (blasts),  greet  (to  weep), 
knave  (boy),  minion  (a  favorite),  resent  (to  feel  a  second 
time),  dilated  (expressed  in  full),  liquidate  (to  melt), 
censure  (judgment),  obsequious  (funereal),  unprevailing 
(unavailing),  merely  (utterly). 

IV.  Self-contradictory  terms  :  Second  "best ;  he  enjoyed 
ill  health;  he  progressed  backward  ;   it  was  fearfully 


250  APPENDIX. 

hopeful ;  England  lay  formidably  open  [Fronde,  as  cited 
by  White]  ;  her  dearest  foe  [Mrs.  Alexander]. 

V.  List  of  words  and  expressions  from  which  are  to  be 
selected  those  which  are  as  yet  unauthorized :  Cablegram, 
bob  up,  India  rubbers,  broncho,  caucus,  Bramin,  camp- 
meeting,  Pundit,  pluck,  Manilla,  Puritan,  pedagogical, 
lithograph,    copperhead,    secesh,    ethical   dative,    tele- 
gram, circular  (a  wrap),  humbug,   swell,  fraud  (as  ap- 
plied to  a  person),  ulster,  boss  politician,  political  bum- 
mer,   stalwart,    literary     bulletin,    discredits    (demerit 
marks),  illiterates,  hardly  ever,  telegraphy,  bicycle,   ve- 
locipede, phonograph,  oleomargarine,  tone  (as  a  term  in 
society),  torso,  mezzotint,  dolman,  polonaise,    Kaglan, 
reportorial,  educationary,  newspaperial,  burglarize,  idiot- 
ism,  boom  (success),  rustler,  shack,  provenience,  Boy- 
cotting, skedaddle,  bulldoze. 

VI.  Formations  contrary  to  analogy  :  Traveller,  skiU- 
ful,  Paris,  Satan,  than  whom  no  higher  sat,  peddler,  li- 
belZer,  modeler,  parquet,  has  the  bell  rang  9 

VII.  Formations    contrary  to    etymology  :   Defence, 
pretence,  imcertain  (instead  of  incertain),  walkist,  civil- 
ise, presence,  dunce,  indeHble,  ^loose,  scien^W,  phys- 
icist,  specialty,  paralyze,  analyze,  reflexion. 

BAKBAEISM. 
I.  OFFENDING  AGAINST  National  Use. 

1.  The  sweet  gentlemen  of  the  court  who  regard  keep- 
ing their  word  as  mauvais  ton. 

2.  This  form  of  drama  is  that  in  which  the  misere  of 
citizen  life  has  best  liked  to  insinuate  itself. 

3.  Mezentian  policy. — [Froude,] 

4.  Every  one  was  on  the  qui  vive. 

5.  Madame  L.,  nee  Mademoiselle  E. 


APPENDIX.  251 

6.  He  had  a  very  distingue  air. 

7.  He  sought  his  dolce  far  niente. 

8.  He  enjoyed  his  otium  cum  dignitate. 

9.  He  is  a  member  of  the  beau  monde. 

10.  He  committed  afaux  pas. 

11.  .     .     .  may  well  rank  next  to  Athens  in  the  his- 
tory which  teaches  comme  Vuom  s'  eterna. — [Lowell.] 

12.  .     .     .  who  passed  along  the  still  unextinguished 
lamp  of  intelligence  ;  the  lampada  vitce. — [Lowell.] 

13.  Horace's  nonum prematur  in  annum    .     .     .    had 
been  more  than  complied  with. — [Lowell.] 

14.  We  are  thankful  for  a  commentator  at  last,  who 
passes  dry  shod  over  the  turbide  onde  of  inappreciative 
criticism. — [Lowell.] 

15.  ...  its  deep  thunders  of  tragedy,  and  its  pas- 
sionate vox  humana. — [Lowell.  J 

II.  OFFENDING  AGAINST  Reputable  Use. 

1.  A  reportorial  conclave. 

2.  He  is  an  educationalist. 

3.  The  bank  was  burglarized. 

4.  He  has  received  a  cablegram. 

5.  The  man  has  been  extradited. 

6.  There  are  two  gents  here. 

7.  He  has  had  his  photo  taken. 

8.  Can  you  lend  me  a  postal  9 

9.  All  attempts  at  bulldozing  failed. 

10.  I  have  hoards  of  gold  laid  by  somewhere,  and  could 
come  out  as  a  Croesus  when  I  chose. — [Thackeray.] 

11.  Say  what  you  have  to  say  as  perspicuously  as  possi- 
ble, as  briefly  as  possible,  and  as  remember  ably  as  possible, 
and  take  no  other  thought  about  it. — [Southey.J 

12.  The  design  was  impracticable. 


252  APPENDIX. 

13.  A  reward  was  offered  to  whomsoever  would  point 
out  a  practicable  road. — [Scott.] 

14.  I  was  told  by  a  certain  party. 

15.  That  is  quite  fly. 

1 6.  The  Irishy  by  whom  he  was  surrounded . — [Lowell.  ] 

17.  Their    haying   got    a   religion    to    themselves. — 
[Lowell.] 

18.  .      .      ,      results  that  permeated  all  thought,  all 
literature,  and  all  talk. — [Lowell.] 

19.  .      .      .      which  is   supposed  to  glance   at    the 
straiter  religionists. — [Lowell.  ] 

20.  But  how  if  he  lore  us  ? — [Lowell.] 

21.  The  everyday/ness  of  his  scenery. — [Lowell.] 

22.  Not  because  it  was  unbecoming,  but  because  it  was 
the  only  wear. — [Lowell.] 

23.  He  chooses  his  language  for  its  canorousness. — 
[Lowell.] 

24.  ...     whose  tendency  it  certainly  is  to  become 
languorous. — [Lowell.] 

25.  But  he  watched  them  all  the  same  with  tender  but 
manly  severity. — [Dean  of  Westminster.] 

26.  Be  I  to  go  with  you  ? 

27.  Not  only  did  he  endeavor  at  reforms. — [Lowell.] 

28.  Spenser  has  coached  more  poets,  and  more  eminent 
ones,  than  any  other  writer  of  English  verse. — [Lowell.] 

29.  He  did  not  do  that  muchly. 

30.  I  will  not  say  that  Dryden's  prose  did  not  gain  by 
the  conversational  elasticity  which  his  frequenting  men 
and  women  of    the  world  enabled  him  to  give  it. — 
[Lowell.] 

31.  Yet  I  was  a  poetess  only  last  year. — [E.  B.  Brown- 
ing-] 

32.  Who  is  the  authoress  of  this  book  ? 

33.  He  then  proceeded  to  orate. 


APPENDIX.  253 

34.  How  many  sales-ladies  do  you  employ  ? 

35.  Will  you  give  me  a  recommend  ? 

36.  Did  you  get  an  invite? 

37.  "But,    Dorothea/'     lie    said,     remonstrantly. — 
[George  Eliot.] 

38.  She  answered  contradictiously. — [George  Eliot.] 


III.  OFFENDING  AGAINST  Present  Use. 

1.  He  had  sit  ten  down  in  the  winter  before  the  city. 

2.  [Mean]  while  the  Irish  in  town  lay  in  wait  to  retali- 
ate, and  atrocity  I  eg  at  atrocity. 

3.  Wliiles  I  waited. 

4.  Shall  we  be  beholden  to  you  ? — [Shakespeare.] 

5.  I  am  afeard. — [Shakespeare.] 

6.  He  overpeers  the  others. — [Shakespeare.] 

7.  Such   a  thing  bechanced,   you  would  be  sorry. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

8.  He  repented  him  of  the  evil  he  had  done. — [King 
James's  Translation.] 

9.  I'll  grow  a  talker  for  this  gear. — [Shakespeare.] 

10.  I  pray  thee  overname  them. — [Shakespeare.] 

11.  There  is  a  forerunner  come   from   the  fifth. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

12.  I  had  forgot.— [Shakespeare.] 

13.  You  spet  upon  me  on  Wednesday  last. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

14.  Flesh  of  muttons,  beefs,  and  goats. — [Shakespeare.] 

15.  The  lottery  of  my  destiny. — [Shakespeare.] 

16.  She  blubbered  into  tears. — [Dryden.] 

17.  Bars  me  the  right  of  choosing. — [Shakespeare.] 

18.  We  have  not  spoke  us  yet  0/torchbearers. — [Shake- 
speare.] 


254  APPENDIX. 

19.  And  better,  in  my  mind,  not  undertook.—  [Shake- 
speare.] 

20.  And  whiter   than  the  paper  it   was  writ  on. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

21.  Slubber  not  business  for  my  sake. — [Shakespeare.] 

22.  But  stay  the  very  riping  of  the  time. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

23.  From  whom  he  bringeth  sensible  regreets. — [Shake- 
speare. ] 

24.  As  this  fore-spurrer   comes    before    his  lord. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

25.  That  tvas  used  to  come  so  smug  upon  the  mart. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

26.  The    Dardanian    wives,    with   bleared    visages. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

27.  To  cry  good  joy. — Shakespeare. 

28.  The  husbandry  and  manage  of  my  house. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

29.  I  could  not  do  withal. — [Shakespeare.] 

30.  Uncapable  of  pity. — [Shakespeare.] 

31.  That   have   of    late   so   huddled    on  his   back. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

32.  It  will  fall  to  careless  ruin. — [Shakespeare.] 

33.  Tell  her  the  process  of  Antonio's  end. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

34.  These  be  the  Christian  husbands. — [Shakespeare.] 

35.  I  am  married  to  a  wife  which  is  as  dear  to  me  as 
life  itself. — [Shakespeare.] 

36.  ,You  should  have  been  respective. — Shakespeare.] 

37.  I  humbly  do  desire  your  grace  of  pardon.  —  [Shake- 
speare.] 

38.  Be  I  to  go  with  you  ? 

39.  He  gave  currentness  to  the  report. 

40.  The  populosity  of  the  city  was  remarkable. 


APPENDIX. 

SOLECISMS.—  (pp.  159-178.) 


1.  I  don't  think  I  like  any  man  well  enough  to  recom- 
mend them  to  you.  —  [Henry  James,  Jr.] 

2.  I  don't  suppose  anyone  ever  said  such  a  thing  to  you 
before.     Did  they?  —  [Henry  James,  Jr.] 

3.  Let  each  one  take  their  books. 

4.  An  advocate  or  attorney  that  betray  the  trust  of 
their  client. 

5.  Spain  promised  in  general  to  use  their  good  offices 
for  his  [the  Palatine's]  restoration. 

6.  A  tenant  for  life,  for  years,  at  will,  or  a  copyholder, 
cannot  prescribe  by  reason   of   the  imbecility  of  their 
estates. 

7.  Each  of  the  ladies  were  perfect  in  their  parts.  — 
[Scott.] 

8.  Let  every  man  stand  in  their  own  place. 

9.  When  a  person  is  accused  of  crime,  it  is  right  that 
they  should  have    an   opportunity  to  prove    their   in- 
nocence. 

10.  The  commonwealth  is  sick  of  their  own  choice. 

11.  Spence  watched  him  as  anxiously  as  his  disciples 
watched  Socrates.  —  [Stephens.] 

12.  He  [lago]  is  envious  of  Cassio,  and  suspects  that 
the  Moor  may  have  wronged  his  honor. 

13.  Elizabeth  still  hoped  that  means  could  be  found  by 
which,  though  on  the  throne,  her  [Mary's]  hands  could 
be  tied,  her  teeth  drawn,  and  her  claws  pared. 

14.  If  she  [Elizabeth]  preferred  it,  she  might  take  the 
league  with  France  and  admit  Mary  Stuart  as  a  third  in 
the  same  treaty  under  conditions  which  would  bind  her 
hands,  and  render  her  incapable  of  mischief  had  she  been 
so  inclined. 


256  APPENDIX. 

15.  The  English  hate  frogs,  and  the  French  love  frogs 
and  hate  the  English,  and  cut  off  their  hind  legs. 

16.  The  Pope  was  invited  to  publish  the  bull  against 
that  monarch  ;  and  he  delivered  over  his  soul  to  the  devil, 
and  his  kingdom  to  the  first  invader. — [Hume.] 

17.  He  tore  out  the  beard  of  a  weaver,  and  that  he 
might    give    him    experience   of  burning,  he  held    his 
hand  to  the  candle  till  the  sinews  and  veins  shrunk  and 
burst. 

18.  Besides  that,  I  think  [he]  having  interest  to  the 
title  after  her,  his  nomination  among  them  shall  further 
it  with  the  people. 

19.  He  breakfasted  in  company  with  Mr.  Webster  on 
his  first  arrival  in  London. 

20.  Every  one^  knows,  too,  that  in  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury it  was  succeeded  by  a  growth  of  profound  and  en- 
thusiastic admiration,  which,  though  it  has  been  limited 
by  the  rise  of  new  forms  of  deep  and  powerful  poetry, 
is  still  far  from  being  spent  or  even  reduced,  though  it  is 
expressed  with  more  discrimination  than  of  old,  by  all 
who  have  a  right  to  judge  of  English  poetry. — [Dean  of 
Westminster.] 

21.  Heaven  helps  him  when  he  embraces  his  means. 

22.  .     .     .  hopes  of  subduing  a  people  who  defended 
themselves  by  their  money,  which  invited  assailants,  in- 
stead of  their  arms,  which  repelled  them. — [Hume.] 

23.  A  gallows  was  erected  over  the  stake  from  ivhich 
the  wretched  victim  was  to  be  suspended  in  a  cradle  of 
chains. — [Froude.] 

24.  They  were  poor  in  comparison  to  what  they  are  at 
present. 

25.  A  tenant  who  has  paid  rent  and  acted  as  such. — 
[Greenleaf.] 

26.  Although  a  thousand  posts  of  usefulness  are  open  to 


APPENDIX.  257 

them,  they  pass  them  by,  and  it  may  well  be  said  of  them 
that  they  are  of  no  more  practical  value  than  chaff. 

27.  The  words  in  Tennyson's  description  of  a  rippling 
brook  are  so  admirably  adapted  to  the  subject,  that  it 
forms  a  perfect  melody  of  itself. 

28.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this 
or  any  other  particular,  the  whole  of  his  faculties  being 
concentrated  in  the  management  of  an  animal  who  dis- 
played various  peculiarities. — [Dickens.] 

29.  For  who  love  I  so  much  ? — [Shakespeare.] 

30.  Who  did  you  see  ? 

31.  Who  are  you  talking  to  ? 

32.  Who  were  you  sent  by  ? 

33.  I  have  a  wife  ivhich  is  as  dear  as  life  itself. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

34.  Tell  me  in  sadness  whom  is  she  you  love. 

35.  I  eat  no  flesh  nor  none  of  my  folks,  nor  is  it  per- 
mitted in  England  during  Lent. 

36.  Much  have  I  envied  your  art  who  vouchsafeth. — 
[Howells.] 

37.  Our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven. — [King  James's 
Translation.] 

38.  He  pursued  the  man  but  he  escaped. 

39.  Whatever  did  he  say  ? 

40.  When  ive  shall  understand  at  least  what  each  other 
means. — [Robertson.] 

41.  In  a  word,  the  whole  nation  seems  to  be  running 
out  of  their  wits. — [Smollett.] 

42.  Objection  has  been  made  to  these  sort  of  apportion- 
ments.— [Story.] 

43.  I  had  not  left  off  troubling  myself  about  these  sort 
of  things. 

44.  It  is  me. 

45.  It  was  him  that  I  saw. 


258  APPENDIX. 

46.  Thatis/^r. 

47.  It  is  them. 

48.  As  if  they  could  be  interested  in  the  fate  of  such  a 
wretch  as  him. — [Thackeray.] 

49.  Between  you  and  I. — [Tennyson.] 

50.  No  one  has  been  here  but  her  and  /. 

51.  He  said  that  you  and  me  could  go  if  we  wished. 

52.  You  will  see  my  husband  and  /  next  Sunday  if  we 
are  well. 

53.  The  earth  hath  swallowed  all  my  hopes  but  she. 

54.  These  sort  of  exercises  are  profitable. 

55.  Those  kind  of  fruit  are  valuable. 

56.  I  cannot  come  this  three  hours. 

57.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them  horses  ? 

58.  Each  of  them  took  their  books. 

\ 

59.  Let  you  and  /  go  home. 

60.  Let's  you  and  /  take  a  walk. 

61.  It  does  not  become  such  as  me. 

62.  He  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out. 
—  [King  James's  Translation.] 

63.  The  nations  are  not  so  blessed  as  thee. 

64.  He  invited  the  lady  and  /to  walk  in. 

65.  Never  mind  whom  it  may  be. 

6  ft.  The  stork  assembly  meets  for  many  a  day 
Consulting  deep  and  various,  ere  they  take 
Their  arduous  voyage. — [Thomson.] 

67.  He  feels  no  bruise  himself,  and  is  strongly  con- 
scious of  his  own  amiable  behavior  since  he  inflicted  the 
blow. — [Thackeray.  ] 

68.  The  courfc  which  possessed  authority  .     .     .  whose 
jurisdiction. 

69.  The  mission  of  Germans  in  Paris  seems  to  be  to 
prevent  me  feeling  homesick. — [J.  Snodgrass.] 

70.  I  will  tell  you  who  I  saw. 


APPENDIX.  259 

71.  Lets  you  and  /go.  —  [Trollope,  as  cited  by  White.] 

72.  But  if  a  customer  wishes  you  to  injure  their  foot 
or  to  disfigure  it,  you  are  to  refuse  their  pleasure.  —  [Rus- 
kin,  cited  by  White.] 

73.  Every  one  looked  about  them  silently.  —  [Malloch, 
cited  by  White.] 

74.  And  though  old  manufacturers  could  not    .     .     . 
be  connected  with  none  but  equals.  —  [George  Eliot.] 


1.  A  strata  of  clay. 

2.  Make  a  memoranda  of  that. 

3.  He  is  &  phenomena. 

4.  Enforce  some  rites  or  other  of  religion.  —  [Burke.] 

5.  In  the  English  monarch  not  being  expected  to  hang 
Eosencranz  and  Guildenstern  out  of  hand  to  oblige  his 
cousin  of  Denmark.  —  [Lowell.] 

6.  This  is  the  sensation  advertiser,  who  sometimes  is  a 
publisher,  sometimes  a  perfumer  ;  at  others  he  sells  fire- 
safes.  —  [Richard  Grant  White.] 

7.  He  was  averse  to  the  nation  involving  itself  in  war. 

8.  The  time  of   William  making  the  experiment  at 
length  arrived. 

9.  I  am  opposed  to  him  going  on  such  an  expedition. 

10.  Much  depends    on    your  pupil  composing   fre- 
quently. 

ADYEKBS. 

1.  Sweyn  was  constrained  upon  the  departure  of  Olave, 
to  evacuate  also  the  kingdom.  —  [Hume.] 

2.  Serious  difficulty  only  arose  with  the  genuine  adhe- 
sion of  the  Catholics.  —  [Froude.] 

3.  A  pretence  was  only  wanting  to  invade  a  people.  — 
[Hume.] 


260  APPENDIX. 

4.  Keligious  forms  are  only  malleable  in  the  fervent 
heat  of  genuine  belief. — [Froude.] 

5.  He  pretended  that  he  only  signed  as  witness  to  the 
king's  subscription. — [Hume.] 

6.  If  any  exceptions  can  be  admitted,  it  will  only  be 
where,  etc. 

7.  My  last  request  shall  be  that  myself  may  only  bear 
the  burden. — [Hume.] 

8.  The  habits  of  a  great  nation   could  only  change 
slowly. — Froude.] 

9.  They  were  only  required  to  relinquish  some  acqui- 
sitions which  they  had  made. — [Hume.] 

10.  I  only  have  relinquished  one  delight. — [Wordsworth. 

11.  In  Eussia  this  [serfage]  has  been  only  done  quite 
lately  by  the  present  Emperor.— [Freeman.] 

12.  The  exercises  of  intellectual  ingenuity  which  only 
differ  from  conundrums  and  enigmas  in  not  being  amus- 
ing.—[A.  S.  Hill.] 

13.  An  intense  and  thorough  acquaintance  with  a  lan- 
guage is  only  to  be  acquired  by  an  attentive  study  of  its 
literature. — [Morris.  ] 

14.  Mason  and  a  few  of  the  leading  dragoons  only  un- 
derstood the  cry. 

15.  We  were  to  cautiously  and  quickly  advance  to  the 
hill  above. 

16.  The  king  survived  about  a  year  this  melancholy 
incident. — [Hume.] 

17.  As  we  were  drifting  in  bodily  to  shore. — [Poe.] 

18.  Harrington's  translation  of  Ariosto  is  not  likewise 
without  its  merit. — [Hume.] 

19.  Antipathy  which  no  time  or  experience  was  ever 
able  to  efface. 

20.  The  restoration  was  enforced  afterwards  upon  his 
successors. 


APPENDIX.  261 

21.  The  upper  house  had  been   treated  in  disputes 
which  had  arisen  with  significant  disrespect. — [Froude.] 

22.  The  prevalence  of  one  opinion  in  religious  subjects 
can  be  owing  at  first  to  the  stupid  ignorance  alone  and 
barbarism  of  the  people. 

23.  And  let  my  liver  rather  heat  with  wine. — [Shake- 
speare. ] 

24.  They  sent  an  address  to  the  Kegent,  where  they 
plainly  intimated,  etc. 

25.  Injuries  affecting  a  man's  health  or  where  by  any 
unwholesome  practices  of  another  man  sustains  any  ap- 
parent damage. — [Blackstone.] 

26.  As  they  had  long  been  deprived  of  the  presence  of 
their  sovereign  whom  they  once  despaired  ever  more  to 
behold.  — [Hume.] 

27.  It  is  a  sad  discovery  that  history  is  so  mainly  made 
by  ignoble  men. — [Lowell.] 

28.  Hitherto  there  had  been  Englishmen  of  a  distinct 
type  enough. 

29.  Chamier  declared  that  it  was  a  hard  exercise  of 
faith  to  believe  that  so  foolish  a  chatterer  could  have 
really  written  the  Traveller. — [Macaulay.] 


VERBS. — Tense  of  the  Infinitive. 

1.  Douglas,  who  intended  to  have  drawn  out  the  war, 
was  forced,  etc. 

2.  Had  not  other  States  of  Europe  at  the  same  time 
received  an  accession  of  force,  it  had  been  impossible  to 
have  retained  her  [France]  within  her  ancient  boundaries. 
— [Hume.  ] 

3.  He  left  his  fastnesses,  in  which  he  intended  to  have 
sheltered  his  feeble  army. — [Hume.] 


262  APPENDIX. 

4.  He  scorned  the  title  which  Elizabeth  intended  to 
have  restored  to  him. — [Hume.] 

5.  They  were  not  able  as  individuals  to  have  influenced 
the  twentieth  part  of  the  population. — [Jefferson.] 

6.  Lady  Kochampton  had  really  intended  to  have  gone. 
— [D'Israeli.] 

7.  Since  I  left  this  city  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to 
have  travelled  a  good  deal. — [Grant.] 

8.  They  would  have  found  it  up-hill  work  to  have  earned 
a  bare  living. 

9.  Had  I  wished  to  have  done  so  I  should  be  better  off. 

10.  I  meant  to  have  done  it. 

11.  He  wished  to  have  done  it. 

12.  He  was  resolved  next  day  to  have  converted  into 
ready  money  the  remains  of  his  fortune. — [Hume.] 

13.  I  hoped  to  have  done  so. 

14.  He  undertook  to  have  done  it. 

15.  We  engaged  to  have  done  it. 

16.  I  hoped  to  have  seen  you. 

17.  He  promised  to  have  done  so. 

18.  I  preferred  not  to  have  done  it. 

19.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  shown  off  Sheilah  to 
some  of  his  friends. — [Wm.  Black,  cited  by  White.] 

20.  One  friend  she  had  who  would  have  rejoiced  to  have 
been  of  assistance  to  her.— [Wm.  Black,  cited  by  White.] 

21.  Leslie  was  going  to  have  spoken. — [Malloch,  cited 
by  White.] 

22.  Under  these  circumstances  it  would  have  been  idle 
for  the  crown  to  have  expected  aid. — [Black,  cited  by 
White.] 

VEKBS.  — Number. 

1.  This  large  homestead,  including  a  large  barn  and 
beautiful  garden,  are  to  be  sold  next  month. 


APPENDIX.  263 

2.  Antipathy,  which  no  time  or  experience  were  eyer 
able  to  efface. — [Hume.] 

3.  Neither  fact  nor  inference  are  correct. 

4.  This  kind  of  cases  are  numerous. 

5.  Neither  the  carriage  nor  the  livery  were  familiar  to 
them. 

6.  No  nation  but  ourselves  have  equally  succeeded  in 
both. —  [De  Quincey.] 

7.  Where  was  you  ? 

8.  Who  done  that  ? 

9.  There  seems  to  be  no  more  inclined  to  take  part. 

10.  Every  one   of  the  men  say  they  saw  him   take 
it. 

11.  He  dare  not  do  anything  so  bold. 

12.  More  than  one  of  them  holds  that  opinion. 

13.  When  wealth,  honor,  or  power  are  ours,  friends 
are  multiplied. 

14.  Out  of  the  same  mouth  proceedetli  blessing  and 
cursing. — [King  James's  Translation.] 

15.  Let's  you  and  me  go  along. 

16.  Every  book  and  every  magazine  were  catalogued. 

17.  There  are  many  pleasures  which  neither  our  best 
interest  nor  the  convenience  of  others  permit. 

18.  Neither  threatening  nor  punishment  were  able  to 
correct  the  habit. 

19.  There's  three  or  four  chickens  in  the  coop. 

20.  Are  either  of  the  two  valuable  ? 

21.  Neither  Lenthal  nor  Manchester  ivere  esteemed 
independents. — [  Hume.] 

22.  The  crop  of  wheat  and  oats  were  light. 

23.  The  great  supply  that  was  expected  by  the  Dauphin 
here  are  wrecked. — [Shakespeare.] 

24.  Ay,  there  goes  a  pair  that  only  spoil  each  other. — 
[Goldsmith.] 


264  APPENDIX. 

25.  Neither  of  the  boys  have  been  taught. 

26.  As  the  long  train  of  ages  glide  away. 

27.  He  don't  remember. 

28.  The  grave  part  of  mankind  are  quite  as  liable  to 
these  imitated  beliefs  as  the  frivolous  part. —  [Bagehot.] 

29.  Saying  things  in  a  short,  dense  way  that  compel  a 
halt.— [Ik  Marvel.] 

30.  I  knew  you  was  my  friend. 

31.  I  recollect  that  you  ivas  his  advocate. 

32.  Eeligion  and  virtue,  our  best  support,  confers  on 
the  mind  the  principles   of  independence. — [Cited  by 
Fowler.] 

33.  In  that  transaction  their  safety  and  welfare  is  most 
concerned. — [Cited  by  Fowler.] 

34.  There  are  many  faults  in  spelling  which  neither 
analogy  nor  pronunciation  justify. — [Cited  by  Fowler.] 

VEKBS. — Connection  of  Tenses. 

1.  I  have  met  three  men  and  I  found  them  true. 

2.  The  painter  plays  the  spider  ;  and  hath  woven 
A  golden  mesh  to  entrap  the  hearts  of  men. 

— [Shakespeare.  ] 

3.  It  is  confidently  asserted  that  two  young  gentlemen 
.     .     .  have  made  a  discovery  that  there  was  no  God. 

4.  Birds  frequently  perish  from  sudden  changes  in  our 
whimsical  spring  weather  of  which  they  had  no  forebod- 
ing.— [Lowell.] 

5.  I  considered  that  wit  was  sarcastic  and  magnanim- 
ity imperious. — [Johnson.] 

6.  The  extensive  scale  of  interests  gave  him  great  vari- 
ety ;  like  his  own  skylark  he  soars,  and  drops  into  a  lowly 
nest,  and  as  the  wind  sometimes  flags,  and  the  eye  is  wea- 
ried, he  was  unequal ;  and  there  was  sometimes  want  of 


APPENDIX  265 

proportion  to  his  subject  and  his  treatment  of  it. — [Dean 
of  Westminster.] 

7.  Every  one  knows  too  that  in  a  quarter  of  a  century 
it  was  succeeded  by  a  growth  of  profound  and  enthusias- 
tic admiration,  which  though  it  has  teen  limited  by  the 
rise  of  new  forms  of  deep  and  powerful  poetry,,  is  still  far 
from    being  spent,  or  even  reduced,  though  it    is  ex- 
pressed  with  more    discrimination  than  of  old,    in  all 
who  have  a  right  to  judge  of  English  poetry. — [Dean  of 
Westminster.  ] 

8.  Any  that  have,  may,  or  shall  pretend. 

9.  This  dedication  may  serve  for  almost  any  book  that 
has,  is,  or  shall  be  published. — [Cited  by  Campbell.] 

Use  of  CAK  and  COULD  for  MAY  and  MIGHT. 

1.  You  can  go  so  far  as  I  am  concerned. 

2.  You  can  do  so  if  you  choose. 

3.  Please  can  I  speak  ? 

4.  You  can  go  without  asking  me. 

5.  Can  we  go  home  now,  or  shall  we  stay  ? 

6.  You  can  read  it  ;  I  do  not  care. 

7.  He  can  say  what  he  pleases ;   it  is  no  concern  of 
mine. 

8.  He  asked  me  whether  he  could  go. 

9.  I  think  you  could  do  this  to  please  me. 

SHALL  and  WILL. 

1.  If  then  we  shall  shake  off  our  slavish  yoke. 

2.  Fair    Jessica   shall   be   my   torchbearer. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

3.  If  you  much  note  him 

You  shall  offend  him. — [Shakespeare.] 


266  APPENDIX. 

4.  My  country 
Shall  have  more  vices  than  it  had  before. 

— [Shakespeare.] 

5.  And  if  I  die,  no  man  shall  pity  me. 

6.  If  they  do  this 

As,  if  please  God,  they  shall. 

7.  You  should  refuse  to  perform  your  father's  will  if 
you  should  refuse  to  accept  him. — [Shakespeare.] 

8.  Would  make  such  fearful  and  confused  cries, 
As  any  mortal  body  hearing  it 

Should  straight  fall  mad. 

9.  Strength  should  be  lord  of  imbecility, 

And  the  rude  son  should  strike  the  father  dead  ; 
Force  should  be  right. 

10.  It  is  certain  that  we  will  fail. 

11.  I  would  try  in  vain  to  thank  you. 

12.  Will  I  put  some    coal  on  the  fire  ? — [Cited  by 
White.] 

13.  It  was  requested  that  no  persons  would  leave  their 
seats.— [Cited  by  White.] 

14.  When  will  we  get  through  with  the  .     .     .  Byron 
controversy  ? — [Cited  by  White.] 

15.  I  think  we  will  succeed. 

16.  I  would  be  false  if  I  did  not  say  so. 

17.  We  will  be  smothered  in  this  fire. 

18.  Do  you  think  we  will  have  a  storm  to-day  ? 

19.  I  would  try  in  vain  to  express  myself. 

20.  He  ought  to  have  known  that  we  would  be  ruined. 

21.  I  will  not  do  it. 

22.  I  will  give  it  to  John. 

23.  He  will  go  next  week. 

24.  It  will  rain,  I  think. 

25.  Will  you  come  to-morrow  ? 

26.  He  would  often  talk  of  such  things. 


APPENDIX.  267 

27.  I  would  have  you  do  so. 

28.  We  shall  go  to-morrow. 

29.  Shall  I  read  to  you  ? 

30.  You  shall  have  them  if  you  wish. 

31.  Thou  shalt  not  steal. 

32.  He  shall  be  punished. 

33.  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  were  to  do  so. 

34.  I  should  do  that  differently. 

35.  You  should  do  as  commanded. 

36.  Should  you  fail  to-day,  try  again  to-morrow. 

TRANSITIVE  VERBS  for  INTRANSITIVE,  or  INTRANSITIVE 
VERBS  for  TRANSITIVE. 

1.  We  trifle  time. — [Shakespeare.] 

2.  The  same  strict  .     .     .  watch 

So  nightly  toils  the  subject  of  the  land. 

— [  Shakespeare.  ] 

3.  My  tooth  ached  me. 

4.  His  burns  smart  him. 

5.  His  foot  itches  him. 

6.  The  man  whom  they  intend  shall  do  that  work. 

7.  I  called  to  price  your  goods. 

8.  This  store  to  rent. 

9.  To  fly  the  country. 

10.  "  Was  this    yoke   to  be  disastrously  imposed  on 
necks  for  which  its  only  effect  would  be  to  madden  or  to 
gall  9"—  [P.  W.  Farrar.] 

CONJUNCTIONS. 

1.  Scarcely  has  he  reached  it  than  he  shows  the  differ- 
ence. 

2.  Hardly  is  this  suit  settled  than  old  Gaunt  dies. 


268  APPENDIX. 

3.  This  could  not  nor  would  not  have  been  spoken  by 
Shakespeare. 

4»  They  were  not  tempted  to  seize  extensive  possessions 
which  they  knew  neither  how  to  cultivate  nor  enjoy. — 
[Hume.  ] 

5.  The  general  presumption  which  lies  either  against 
the  understanding  or  the  morals. — [Hume.] 

6.  Their  interests,  loth  with  regard  to  property  and 
religion. 

7.  As  much  as  the  bold  and  vivid  spirit  of  Montrose 
prompted  him  to  enterprising  measures,  as  much  was  the 
cautious  temper  of  Hamilton  inclined  to  such  as  were 
moderate  and  dilatory. 

8.  Who  was  determined  either  to  ruin  himself  or  his 
antagonist. — [  Hume.  ] 

9.  They  were  filled  with  great  sorrow  as  well  as  when 
they  considered  the  miserable  end  of  so  brave  a  patriot  as 
their  own  forlorn  condition  from  the  loss  of  such  a  leader. 

-[Hume.] 

10.  The  livings  were  farmed  out  to  laymen  who  either 
provided  an  Irish  rogue  to   read  the  service  or  obtain 
dispensations  for  themselves  or  their   children  without 
pretence  or  orders  to  hold  benefices  with  cures. 

11.  Adversity  loth  taught  you  to  think  and  to  reason. 

12.  I   demand  neither  pension,  place,  or  any  other 
reward. — [Franklin.  ] 

13.  Somerset,  unable  to  resist  at  once  loth  the  enemies 
within  and  from  without,  retired. — [Hume.] 

14.  I  have  made  no  alteration  or  addition  to  it,  nor 
shall  I  ever. 

15.  He  has  proceeded  to  that  height  of  presumption  as 
to  levy  forces. — [Hume.] 

16.  Will  it  be  urged  that  the  four  Gospels  are  as  old  or 
even  older  than  tradition  ? — [Bolingbroke.] 


APPENDIX.  269 

17.  Talk  like  I  do. 

18.  Try  and  think  of  what  I  say. 

19.  "We   do  not  share   his   feeling  nor  suspect  it.— 
[Lowell.] 

20.  It  won't  bite  us  nor  meddle  with  us.— -[Lowell.] 

21.  All  men  were  either  regarded  as  his  enemies  or 
dreaded  to  become  such. 

22.  As  much  as  that  assembly  was  once  the  idol  of  the 
nation,  as  much  was  it  now  become  the  object  of  general 
hatred. — [Hume.] 

23.  He  found  his  power  to  depend  upon  so  delicate  a 
poise  of  factions  and  interests  as  the  smallest  event  was 
able  ...  to  overthrow. — [Hume.] 

24.  I  do  not  know  as  I  shall  remain. 

25.  This  man  was    equally  qualified    to  gain    their 
affection  .     .     .     as  to    command    their    obedience. — 
[Hume.] 

26.  When  a  little  time  .  .  .  had  moderated  the  general 
fury,  he  was  enabled  to  form  a  party. 

27.  His  Majesty  would  loth  secure  his  own  dominions 
and  the  Spanish  Netherlands. 

28.  Scarcely  had  he  .     .     .   than. — [Gervinus.] 

29.  This  could  not  nor  would  not  have  been. 

— [Gervinus.] 

30.  Or  Shakespeare,  .  .  nor  Collins,  .  .  .  nor  Byron, 
.    .  Scott,  .    .  or  Wordsworth. — [Emerson.] 

ADJECTIVES. 

1.  Employ  your  chiefest  thought. — [Shakespeare.] 

2.  Captains  of  fifties  and  hundreds  held  authority,  each, 
in  his  loftier  tower. —  [Southey.] 

3.  Nor  no  ill-luck  stirring. — [Shakespeare.] 

4.  Nor  none  of  thee. — [Shakespeare.] 


270  APPENDIX. 

5.  Fiercely-attacked  ballads. — [Dean  of  Westminster.] 

6.  All  the  house  belongs  to  me,  or  will  do  so  in  a  few 
years, — [Bronte.] 

7.  In  so  much  a  condition  were  the  privileges  of  the 
people. 

8.  Which  is  the  lest  of  these  two  books  ? 

9.  He  acted  so  honest  and  fair-minded. 

10.  If  your  choice  lies  between  them,  which  of  these 
two  things  do  you  want  most  ? 

11.  He  did  that  good. 

12.  He  waltzed  beautiful. 

13.  She  was  dressed  beautiful. 

14.  The  bird  sings  sweet. 

15.  It  is  awful  muddy. 

16.  He  treated  us  fine. 

17.  I  have  as  good  a  right  as  you. 

18.  Bring  me  a  couple  of  books  on  chemistry. 

19.  There  is  no  telling  to  what  lengths  this  desire  to 
speak  fine  will  lead. — [Richard  Grant  White.] 

PREPOSITIONS. 

1.  Notwithstanding    his    aversion  from  all  labor. — 
[Hume.] 

2.  The  poetry  had  so  wholly  different  an  influence 
TO  that  of  S.  and  G-. 

3.  The  laws  enjoined  the  use  to  the  younger  clergy. 

4.  One   of  those  attempts   at  the   life  of  Louis  Phil- 
ippe. 

5.  This  large  homestead  including  a  large  barn  and 
beautiful  garden. 

6.  The  sultry  evening  was  followed  with  a  storm. 

7.  There  was  a  dinner  twice  a  week  at  which  Walder- 
sham  was  absent. — [D'Israeli.] 


APPENDIX.  271 

8.  In  other  countries  it  may  be  different  to  what  it  is 
with  us. — [Galton.] 

9.  Under  much  less  of  restraint. — [Gladstone.] 

10.  Tyrants  equally  averse  from  peace  and  from  free- 
dom. 

11.  A  precaution  which  serves  to  no  other  purpose. 

12.  The  House  of  Commons  showed  the  same  attach- 
ment with  the  sailors  for  the  Protestant  religion. 

13.  The  English  parliament  was  now  assembled,  and 
discovered  in  every  vote  the  same  disposition  in  which 
they  had  separated. 

14.  Francis  is  said  to   have  been   affected  with  the 
king's  death. 

15.  You  have  too  much  respect  upon  the  world. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

16.  I  am  provided  of  a  torchbearer. —  [Shakespeare.] 

17.  The  difference  of  Shylock  and  Bassanio. — [Shake- 
speare.] 

18.  Let  it  not  enter  in  your  mind  of  love. — [Shake- 
speare. ] 

19.  Employ  your  chief est  thoughts    to  courtship. — 
[Shakespeare.] 

20.  He  is  to  home. 

21.  Where  is  he  at  9 

22.  Of  his  character  we  know  nothing ;  but  I  am  sure 
it  was  different  to  his  circumstances. — [Bronte.] 

23.  Mr.   Eochester  as  he  sat  in  his  damask-covered 
chair  looked  different  to  what  I  had  seen  him  before. — 
[Bronte.] 

24.  He  is  independent  upon  others. 

25.  Catch  me  confiding  my  person  with  strangers. — 
[Holmes.  ] 

26.  All  of  these  have  long  ago  sunk  in  silence  and 
oblivion. 


272  APPENDIX. 

27.  Contempt  and  disregard  to  all  religion. — [Hume.] 

28.  You  might  have  profited  of  our  example. 

—[Burke.] 

29.  My  dissent  to  that  doctrine. — [Burke.] 

30.  He  received  a  visit  ~by  his  father. 

31.  The  conditions  of  life  are  so  different  here  to  what 
they  are  at  the  South. 

32.  It  will  fall  to  careless  ruin. — [Shakespeare.] 

33.  Speaking  upon  the  careful  observation  of  several 
years.     .     .     .  [Richard  Grant  White.  ] 

34.  Some  said  they  had  seen  her  on  the  street. — [Car- 
lyle,  cited  by  White.] 

IMPROPRIETY.-(p.  172.) 

1.  The  first  project  was  to  shorten  discourse  by  cutting 
polysyllables  into  one. — [Swift.] 

2.  We  still  maintain  we  did  right  before,  and  if  the 
same  occasion  should  call  us  out,  we  would  do  it  again. 

3.  Heaven  alone  helps  us  when  we  embrace  his  means. 

4.  In  this  battle  the  barbarians  suffered  a  greater  loss 
than  in  any  battle  during  the  entire  war. 

5.  In  these  rigid  opinions  the  whole  sectaries    *    *     * 
unanimously  concurred. 

6.  His  ostensible  business  would  lay  with  Alva. 

— [Froude.] 

7.  She  hesitated  to  adopt,  and  would  not  reject,  the 
means  which  were  pressed  upon    her  for  securing  the 
throne,  and  she  laid  with  flapping  sails,  drifting  in  the 
gale. — [Froude.] 

8.  He  laid  upon  the  ground. 

9.  He  laid  in  wait. 

10.  He  lay  it  on  the  table. 


APPENDIX.  273 

11.  These  men  rank  among  the  genii  of  the  world. 

12.  Others  who  dreaded  the  execution  of  the  king's 
authority,  had  fled. — [Hume.] 

13.  If  these  facts  be  just,  there  has  been  a  great  im- 
provement. 

14.  Tonstal  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  prelates  of 
that  age,  still  less  for  the  dignity  of  his  manner  than  for 
personal  merit. — [Hume.] 

15.  Another  mark  of  attachment,  which  was  the  most 
sincere  of  any. 

16.  Are  not  the  clergy,  too,  under  a  temptation  to 
confute  9 

17.  I  will  not  say  that  Dryden's  prose  did  not  gain  by 
the  conversational  elasticity  which  his  frequenting  men 
and  women   of  the   world  enabled   him  to  give   it. — 
[Lowell] 

18.  The  greatest  vices  which  they  could  reproach  to  a 
great  part. 

19.  With  this  magical  word  he  called  up  the  geniuses 
of  the  place. 

20.  These  matters  must  be  considered  discreetely. 

21.  He  managed  the  affair  discretely. 

22.  He  is  continuously  in  the  wrong. 

23.  His  reasoning  is  continual. 

24.  Don't  set  there. 

25.  Sit  that  down. 

26.  I  done  that. 

27.  Did  you  loose  your  hat  ? 

28.  Who  learned  you  your  lesson  ? 

2)0.  He  was  at  the  height  of  his  felicity. — [Lowell.] 

30.  Not  only  did  he  endeavor  to  reform. 

31.  Laws  which  he  made  be  enacted. 

32.  If  he  is  a  farmer  his  avocation  must  be  farming. 

33.  I  am  no  poorer  than  the  rest  of  my  townsmen. 

18 


274  APPENDIX. 

34.  This  kind  of  wit  is  that  which  abounds  in  Cowley 
more  than  in  any  author  that  ever  wrote. — [Addison.] 

35.  In  the  age  of  Elizabeth  England  was  more  distin- 
guished for  patriotism  than  any  nation  in  civilized  Eu- 
rope.— [North  American  Keview.] 

3G.  There  were  less  people  there  than  usual. 

37.  Don't  let  that  lay  there. 

38.  The  Southern  dialect  had  many  plural  forms  of 
nouns  that  were  wholly  unknown  to  the  Northern  dialect. 

39.  Have  these  books  indices  9 

40.  What  are  the  indexes  of  these  algebraic  quantities  ? 

41.  Do  you  talk  French.— [Cited  by  White,] 

42.  They  fired  arrows  and  stones. —  [Cited  by  White.] 

43.  Richelieu,  directly  he  was  called  to  the  council. — 
[Buckle,  cited  by  White.] 

IMPROPRIETY. — Clauses  and  Phrases. 

1.  The  obligation  which  of  all  others  had  been  most 
incumbent  on  her,  she  had  neglected. — [Froude.] 

2.  The  one  of  all  others  who  was  supposed  to  represent 
most  nearly  the  Queen. — [Froude.] 

3.  The  event  which  of  all  others  he  most  passionately 
desired. — [Hume.] 

4.  The  kingdom  which  of  all  others  had  been  most 
devoted. — [Hume.] 

5.  Questions  which  of  all  others  had  been  most  devoted. 
— [Hume.J 

6.  He  is  the  man  of  all  others  slow  to  admit  the  thought 
of  revolution. — [Lowell.] 

7.  The  quality  which  of  all  others  she  was  least  pos- 
sessed of. — [Hume.] 

8.  This  delusion  was  of  all  others  the  most  contrary  to 
common  sense. — [Hume.] 


APPENDIX.  275 

9.  He  can  select  with  the  ease  of  magic  the  word  that 
of  all  others  is  best  for  his  purpose. 

10.  *     *     *   came  too  late  to  gladden  the  hearts  which 
of  all  others  would  have  most  rejoiced  in  it. — [Southey.] 

11.  Breathing  with  ease     *     *     *     is  of  all  others  the 
blessing  which  we  possess  with  the  least  consciousness. — 
[Southey.] 


USE  OF  SAME  WORD  WITH  DIFFERENT  MEANINGS,   or 
FAULTY  EEPETITIOX. 

1.  He  sent  round  orders  that  every  one  that  came  to 
land  must  be  brought  into  Galway. — [Froude.] 

2.  B[aily]  had  revealed  the  existence  of  the  mystery 
~but  had  left  it  hut  half  explained. — [Froude.] 

3.  Then,  to  be  sure,  he  snatches  the  first  ready  cudgel 
as  in  ShadwelFs  case,  though  even  then  there  is  some- 
thing of  the  good  humor  of  conscious  strength. 

-[Lowell.] 

4.  Hefell  back  and  laying  wait  until  they  came  on,  he 
fell  upon  them  at  midnight. 

5.  I  had  already  written  and  partly  in  type,  a  letter. — 
[Howells.] 

6.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  th'at  in  all  argumentative  dis- 
course that  great  care  must  be  given  to  definitions. 

7.  I  propose  to  dispose  of  this  subject  without  the  aid 
of  documentary  evidence,  which,  like  circumstantial  evi- 
dence is  often  the  most  unreliable  evidence  of  any. 

8.  He  said  that  it  w^as  a  positive  fact. 

9.  Are  you  positively  certain  ? 

10.  Let  us  continue  on. 

11.  He  Jellied  him  dead. 

12.  They  united  together. 


276  APPENDIX. 

13.  The  two  propositions  were  connected  together. 

14.  When  shall  you  return  lack  home  ? 

*/ 

IMPROPER  ARRANGEMENT  and  CONFUSED  CONSTRUC- 
TION. 

1.  He  was  obliged  to  maintain  six  horses,  of  which  three 
to  be  furnished  with  sufficient  harness. — [Hume.] 

2.  Lying  while  engaged  in  tliat  great  office  under  the 
shadow  of  death,  the  sword  above  his  head  and  ready  at 
any  minute  to  fall,  he  worked  under  circumstances  alone 
perhaps  truly  worthy  of  the  task  which  was  laid  upon 
him,  his  spirit,  as  it  were,  divorced  from  the  world  moved 
in  a  purer  element  than  common  air. — [Froude.] 

3.  He  shot  the^bird  with  his  arrow. 

4.  The  nation,  that  eternal  child,  is  led  by  gentleness  or 
force,  and  without  its  having  any  hand  in  the  matter,  to 
the  end  which  has  been  chosen  for  it  without  consult- 
ing it. 

5.  You  can  hire  for  five  dollars,  a  carriage  which  will 
seat  four  persons  and  two  horses. 

6.  There  were  among  the  vases  several  large  coursing- 
cups  won  by  the  duke's  hounds  of  exquisite  shape  and  or- 
nament.— [Willis.] 

7.  He  sometimes  whipped  the  prisoners  with  his  own 
hands  till  he  was  tired  with  the  violence  of  the  exercise. 
—[Hume.] 

8.  A  practical  objection  to  this  system  is  that  the 
country-houses  not  being  inhabited  at  the  season  of  the 
year  when  they  most  want  it  are  liable  to  deterioration 
from  damp. — [Hamerton.] 

9.  A    certain    Iturbide    called  himself  Emperor    for 
a  while,  as  people  did  in  other  places,  but  after  a  while  a 
Federal  constitution  was  established. — [Freeman.] 


APPENDIX.  277 

10.  ...  his  feeling  becomes  as  nearly  passionate 
.     .     .  as  with  him  is  possible. 

11.  Each  estate  or  each  township  for  the  most  part, 
grew  its  own  food,  and  (the  average  of  seasons  compensat- 
ing each  other),  food  adequate  for  the  mouths  depending 
upon  it. 

12.  It  is  a  very  great  pleasure  for  Mr.  Tennyson's  old 
admirers  to  receive  a  new  volume  from  his  hand  which 
they  can    read  with   unstinted  admiration.  —  [London 
Academy.] 

13.  His  [the  farmer's]  wife  no  less  dear  to  him  than  are 
the  wives  to  them  of  the  presumptuous  and  the  proud,  and 
more  beautiful  and  perfect  in  per  son  and  soul,  measures 
up  to  her  lord  in  every  duty  and  responsibility  of  life. 

14.  Tlie  King  having  become  a  Catholic,  they  will  send 
their  sons  to  K.,  to  be  out  of  the  way. — [Fronde.] 

15.  Where   he    [Pope]    was   to  remain  a  bright-eyed 
restless  fox  amidst  sour  grapes,  not  as  his  poetic  imagina- 
tion at  first  suggested,  lut  a  little  while  longer.  —  [Hogg.] 

1C.  In  a  short  time  all  the  gaols  were  crammed  not- 
withstanding a  great  number  being  shipped  off  to  New- 
castle ;  and  more  were  starved  and  Jcilled  than  were  made 
prisoners. — [Chambers.  ] 

17.  Born  in  1788,  his  Hours  of  Idleness,  a  collection  of 
short  poems,  in  1807,  was  mercilessly  lashed  in  the  Ed- 
inburgh Eeview. — [Stopford  Brook.] 

18.  With  two  or  three  exceptions  we  have  never  seen 
the  writer  through  a  circuit  of  prodigious  reading,  who 
has  not  sometimes  violated  the  accidence  or  the  syntax  of 
English  grammar. — [De  Quincey.] 

19.  Senex  had  filled  the  curacies  before  hv  was  pre- 
sented at  court,  where  (in  1832)  he  saw  the  Princess  Vic- 
toria then  thirteen  years  of  age,  led  by  her  mother  and  smil- 
ing and  bo  wing  even  then  like  a  young  queen  upon  his  ap- 


278  APPENDIX. 

pointment  as  chaplain  to  a  newly  consecrated  Indian 
bishop — Wilson  of  Calcutta. — [Saturday  Eeview.] 

20.  All  the  incidents  are  striking  and  well  told,  from 
the  lighter  story  of  the  young  chaplain  who  tried  to 
preach  to  (or  at)  the  Colonel  for  his  improvement  and 
with  only  the  result — "  For  several  Sundays  past  lie  lias 
been  sitting  with  his  legs  upon  the  ledge  among  the  prayer, 
looks  laughing  at  me"  till  a  six  weeks'  trial  of  a  different 
system  prescribed  by  Senex  <(  got  the  legs  doivn"  to  the 
darker  and  stronger  incidents  of  that  old  Indian  life  of 
banishment. — [Literary  World.  ] 

21.  When  the  national  government  in  Spain  was  upset 
by  Bonaparte,  the  Spanish  colonies  began  to  set  up  for 
themselves  in  1810. — [Freeman.] 

22.  That  the  limits  of  the  two  jurisdictions  [spiritual 
and  temporal]  were  difficult  to  ascertain  or  define,  it  was 
not  impossible  but  by  moderation  on  both  sides,  govern- 
ment might  still  have  been  conducted  in  that  imperfect  and 
irregular  manner  which,  etc. 

23.  I  have  ventured  to  give  to  the  foreign  word  Renais- 
sance— destined  to  become  of  more  common  use  amongst  us, 
as  the  movement  which  it  denotes  comes,  as  it  will   come 
increasingly,  to  interest  us — an  English  form. — [Matthew 
Arnold.] 

24.  The  feudal  law,  first  introducing  the  law  of  primo- 
geniture, made  such  a  distinction  between  the  families  of 
the  elder  and  the  younger  brothers,  that  the  son  of  the 
former  was  thought  to  be  entitled  to  succeed  to  his  grand- 
father preferably  to  his  uncles,  the  nearer  allied  to  the  de- 
ceased monarch. 

25.  She  used  his  language  which  would  not  have  bean 
shocking  to  her  ordinary  moods,  without  blenching. — 
[Howells.] 

26.  ...  on  as  easy  a  footing  with  his  allegorical 


APPENDIX.  279 

beings  as  we  might  be  with  Socrates  in  a  dream. 

— [Lowell.] 

FIGURES.  —METAPHOR 

1.  The  points  which  the  judges  pushed  most  vehe- 
mently were  her  visions  and  her  revelations  and  her  in- 
tercourse with  departed  saints. 

2.  They  gave  into  the  snare  prepared  for  them. — 
[Hume  ] 

3.  He  had  dared  to  project  the  throwing  across  the 
harbor  a  mole  of  a  mile's  extent. 

4.  Even  the  lamb,  when  infected  by  theological  fanati- 
cism, secretes  a  virus  in  his  teeth,  and  his  bite  is  as  deadly 
as  a  rattlesnake's. — [Froude.] 

5.  A  power  whose  morning  drum-beat,  following  the 
sun  and  keeping  company  with  the  hours,  circled  the 
earth  daily  with  one  continuous  and  unbroken  strain  of 
the  martial  airs  of  England. — [Daniel  Webster.] 

6.  To  maintain  his  station  as  head  of  the  community 
and  the  chief  fountain  of  law  and  justice. — [Hume,] 

7.  It  was  all  ear,  and  took  in  strains  that  might  create 
a  soul  under  the  ribs  of  death. — [Milton.] 

8.  I  heard  the  wrack, 

As  earth  and  sky  would  mingle. — [Milton.] 

9.  The  rough  edge  of  battle  ere  it  joined. — [Milton.] 

10.  Every  one  knows,  too,  that  in  a  quarter  of  a  century 
it  was  succeeded  by  a  groivth  of  pro  found  and  enthusiastic 
admiration  which,  though  it  has  been  limited  by  the  rise 
of  new  forms  of  deep  and  powerful  poetry,  is  still  far 
from  being  spent  or  even  reduced,  though  it  is  expressed 
with  more  discrimination  than  of  old  in  all  who  have  a 
right  to  judge  of  English  poetry. — [Dean  of  Westminster.] 

11.  Wordsworth's  poetry  was  not  only  a  powerful,  but  a 
conscious  and  systematic  appeal  to  that  craving  for  deep 


280  APPENDIX. 

truth  and  reality  which  had  been  gathering  way  ever 
since  the  French  Revolution  so  terribly  tore  asunder  the 
old  veils  of  conventionality  and  custom. — [Dean  of  West- 
minster. ] 

12.  Wordsworth's  power  was  in  bursts  ;  and  he  wanted 
to  go  against  the  grain  of  his  real  aptitude,  and  prolong 
into  a  continuous  strain  inspiration  which  was  meant  for 
occasions. — [Dean  of  Westminster.] 

13.  ...    the  sweetness  of  the  verse  enables  the  fancy 
by  a  slight  gulp  to  swallow,  without  solution,  the  problem 
of  being  in  two  places  at  the  same  time. — [Lowell.] 

14.  Mere  names,  with  no  todies  to  ~back  them. — [Lowell.] 

15.  ...     he  shifted  the  couplet  from  the  end  of 
the  stave,  where  it  always  seems  to  put  on  the  brakes  with 
a  jar. — [Lowell.] v 

1G.  Tangled  skeins  of  rain. — [Aldrich.] 

17.  Hills   mushroomed  with    tents. — [Mrs.   E.  Akers 
Allen.] 

18.  ...     these  flaws,  though  mortals  fear  them, 
As  dangerous  to  the  pillared  frame  of  heaven, 
Or  to  the  earth's  dark  brass  underneath, 

Are  to  the  main  as  inconsiderable 

And  harmless,  if  not  wholesome,  as  a  sneeze 

To  man's  less  universe. — [Milton.] 

19.  k  cloud  of  counter  citations  that  neutralize  each 
other. — [Everett.] 

20.  A  bill,  by  the  bye,  is  the  most  extraordinary  loco- 
motive engine  that  the  genius  of  man  ever  produced. — 
[Dickens.] 

21.  And  to  ask  when  the  reward  that  had  been  prom- 
ised me,  viz.,  the  title  held  by  my  ancestors,  was  again  to 
be  revived  in  my  person. — [Thackeray.] 

22.  Between  the  happier  passages  we  have  to  cross 
stretches  of  flat  prose  twisted  into  rhyme. — [Stephens.]  . 


APPENDIX.  281 

23.  His  Tcey  is  so  low  that  his  high  lights  are  never  ob- 
trusive.— [Lowell.] 

24.  The  fifth  part  of  the  felonies  committed  in  the 
country  were  not  brought  to  trial)  notwithstanding  the 
great  number  of  indictments. — [Hume.] 

25.  Eendered  the  presentation  of  a  kind  of  epoch  in  the 
English  Constitution. 

26.  The  development  of  the  national  languages  which 
followed  the  chaotic  period  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  cen- 
turies is  an  interesting  sign  of  that  new  stage  in  the 
advancement  of  civilization  upon  which  Europe  was  pre- 
pared to  enter. — [Freeman.] 

27.  Poverty  ooze d  in  with  gentle  swiftness,  and  lay  about 
him  like  a  dull  cloak  for  the  rest  of  his  life. — [John  Morley.] 

28.  All  measures  for  the  public  good,  however,  appear 
destined  to  an  outselling  gauntlet  of  opposition. 

29.  We  are  only 

Pencils  God  paints  with. — [Howells.] 

30.  The  wings  of  man's  life  are  plumed  with  the  feathers 
of  death. 

31.  Man ! 

Thou  jwndulum  between  a  smile  and  a  tear. — [Byron.] 

32.  Plant  lovelier  than  Naiad  ~by  the  side 
Of  Grecian  Irook,  or  Lady  of  the  Mere, 
Sole-sitting  by  the  shores  of  old  romance. 

— [Wordsworth.  ] 

33.  Stairs  of  sand. 

34.  .     .     .     sometimes  on  firm  ground 

A  standing  fight :  then  soaring  on  main  wing 
Tormented  all  the  air. — [Milton.] 

35.  The  tardily  blossoming  cycles, 

Flowering  at  last  in  this  glorious  age  of  our  art  had  not 

waited, 
Folded  calyxes  still  for  Pordenone  or  Titian. — [Howells.] 


282  APPENDIX. 

36.  The  moral  and  political  system  of  Hobbes  was  a 
palace  of  ice :  transparent,  exactly  proportioned,  majestic, 
admired  by  the  unwary  as  a  delightful  dwelling,   but 
gradually  undermined  by  the  central  warmth  of  human 
feeling,  before  it  was  thawed  into  muddy  water  by  the 
sunshine  of  true  philosophy. — [Mackintosh,  as  cited  by 
Fowler.  ] 

37.  The  Gospel,  formerly  a,  forester,  now  became  &  citi- 
zen.— [Fuller,  as  cited  by  Fowler.] 

38.  The  wand-like  lily.— [Shelley.] 

39.  The  lagging  hours. — [Shelley.] 

40.  Therefore,  on  every  morrow  are  we  wreathing 

A.  flowery  land  to  bind  us  to  the  earth. — [Keats.] 

41.  ...     his  tread 

Was  Hesperean. — [Keats.] 

42.  Out  of  the  live-green  heart  of  the  dells 

They  freshen  the  silvery-crimson  shells. —  [Tennyson.] 

43.  And  the  flying  gold  of  the  ruined  woodlands  drove 
through  the  air. — [Tennyson.] 

44.  The  shrill-edged  shriek  of  a  mother. — [Tennyson.] 

45.  When  a  Mammonite  mother  kills  her  babe  for  a 
burial  fee. — [Tennyson.] 

46.  A  million  emeralds  break  from  the  ruby-budded 
lime. — [Tennyson.  ] 

47.  For  the  drift  of  the  Maker  is  dark,  an  Isis  hid  by 
the  veil. — [Tennyson.] 

48.  The  long-necked  geese  of  the  world  that  are  ever 
hissing  dispraise. — [Tennyson.] 

49.  Ah,  Maud,  you  milk-white  fawn. — [Tennyson.] 

50.  You  have  but  fed  on  the  roses  and  lain  in  the  lilies 
of  life. — [Tennyson.  ] 

51.  For  the  Hack  Mt,  night,  has  flown. 

— [Tennyson.] 

52.  On  a  led  of  daffodil  sky. — [Tennyson.] 


APPENDIX.  283 

53.  And  the  soul  of  the  rose  went  into  my  blood. 

— [Tennyson.] 

54.  He  sets  the  jeivel-print  of  your  feet 

In  violets  blue  as  your  eyes. — [Tennyson.] 

55.  Queen  rose  of  the  rosebud  garden  of  girls. 

— [Tennyson.] 

56.  There  has  fallen  a  splendid  tear 

From  the  passion-flower  at  the  gate. — [Tennyson.] 

57.  They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee. — [Tennyson.] 

58.  A  learn  in  darkness. — [Tennyson.] 

59.  Men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones 

Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things. 

— [Tennyson.  ] 


SIMILE. 

1.  Bent  like  the  laboring  oar  that  toils  in  the  surf  of 

the  ocean, 

Bent,  but  not  .broken,  by  age  was  the  notary  public  ;— 
Shocks  of  yellow  hair,  like  silken  floss  of  the  maize,  hung 
Over  his  shoulder. — [Longfellow.] 

2.  And  feet  like  sunny  gems  on  an  English  green. — 
[Tennyson.] 

3.  In  the  midst  of  it  rises  an  unfinished  tower  like  a 
head  bereft  of  its  hat.— [Clara  Bell,  Tr.] 

4.  With  honeysuckle  covered  with  perfumed  bunches 
of  pale  blossoms  like  spread  hands. — [Clara  Bell,  Tr.] 

5.  Her  eyes  are  as  Hack  as  dark  care. — [Clara  Bell,  Tr.] 

6.  Their  white  sails  set  like  ivings. — [Clara  Bell,  Tr.  ] 

7.  The  foremast,  with  its  double  cross  of  spars,  gave 
way  and  fell  like  a  broken  stick. — [Clara  Bell,  Tr.] 

8.  Little  images  are  laid  before  him  like  a  cock-boat  to 
a  whale. 


284  APPENDIX. 

9.  As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose, 

Or  taint-worm  to  the  weanling  heards  that  graze. 

—[Milton.] 

10.  Destiny,  which  environs  us  like  a  drop  of  deiv  in 
the  heart  of  a  rock. — [A.  H.  Walsh.] 

11.  He  [Gibbon]  is  like  Christie,  the  auctioneer,  who 
says  as  much  in  praise  of  a  ribbon  as  of  a  Eaphael. — 
[Parson,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

12.  Gentle  as  falcon 

Or  hawk  of  the  tower. 

— [Skelton,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

13.  They  rushed  to  battle  like  thirsty  wolves  to  a  spring. 
— [Homer,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

14.  The  mind  of  humanity  seems  to  swing  like  the  pen- 
dulum, and,  like  the  pendulum,  never  remains  in  the 
only  position  in  which  it  can  rest. 

15.  Like  hovering  sea-mew  that  on  the  broad  gulfs 
Of  the  unfruitful  ocean  seeks  her  prey, 

And  often  dips  her  pinions  in  the  brine, 
So  Hermes  flew  along  the  waste  of  waves. 

16.  As  the  wind 

In  autumn  sweeps  the  thistles  of  the  field, 
Clinging  together,  so  the  blasts  of  heaven 
Hither  and  thither  drove  it  o'er  the  sea. 

17.  Led  they  not  forth  in  rapture 

A  beauteous  maiden  there  ? 

Eesplendent  as  the  morning  sun9 

Beaming  with  golden  hair. 

18.  Upon  each  other  back  they  bore 
And  gazed  like  startled  deer. 

19.  Her  beauty  hangs  on  the  cheek  of  night 

Like  a  rich  jewel  in  anEthiop's  ear. — [Shakespeare.] 

20.  These  violent  delights  have  violent  ends, 

And  in  their  triumph  die  ;  like  fire  and  powder 
Which,  as  they  kiss,  consume. 


APPENDIX.  285 

21.  My  earthl  ysenses  are  closing  o^er  my  spirit  like  the 
leaves  around  the  heart  of  a  rose  at  sunset. — [Hawthorne.] 

22.  The  childhood  shows  the  man 

As  morning  shows  the  day. — [Milton.] 

23.  Around  his  image  fluttered  to  and  fro 

The  ghosts  with  noise  like  fear-bewildered  birds. 

24.  Adam  .     .     . 

Led  on  ...  with  desire  to  know 
.     .     .  as  one  whose  drouth 
Yet  scarce  allayed,  still  eyes  the  current  stream 
Whose  liquid  murmur  heard,  new  thirst  excites. 

-[Milton.] 

25.  There  where  your  argosies  with  portly  sail — 
Like  signiors  and  rich  burghers  on  the  flood, 
Or,  as  it  were,  the  pageants  of  the  sea, 

Do  overpeer  the  petty  traffickers, 
That  curt'sy  to  them,  do  them  reverence, 
As  they  fly  by  them  with  their  woven  wings, 
And  see  my  wealthy  Andrew  dock'd  in  sand, 
Veiling  her  high  top  lower  than  her  ribs 
To  kiss  her  burial. — [Shakespeare.] 

26.  And  now,  as  from  the  flint  the  fire, 

Flashed  forth  at  once  his  generous  ire. — [Scott.] 

27.  As  a  violent  wind  uplifts 

The  dry  chaff  heaped  upon  a  threshing-floor, 
And  sends  it  scattered  through  the  air  abroad. 
So  did  that  ivave  fling  loose  the  ponderous  beams. 

28.  It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk,  doth  make  man  better  be. — [Jonson.] 

29.  Care- charming  Sleep,  fall  like  a  cloud. 
In  gentle  shoivers. 

30.  And  as  a  purling  stream,  thou  son  of  Night 
Pass  by  his  troubled  senses,  sing  his  pain — 
Like  hollow  murmuring  wind  or  gentle  rain. 

— [Beaumont  and  Fletcher.] 


286  APPENDIX. 

31.  He  above  the  rest, 

In  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent, 
Stood  like  a  tower. — [Milton.] 

32.  His  form  .     .     . 

As  when  the  sun  neiv  risen 
Looks  through  the  horizontal  air 
Shorn  of  his  learns. — [Milton.] 

33.  With  eyes  upraised,  as  one  inspired, 
Pale  Melancholy  sat  retired. — [Collins.] 

34.  Some,  like  a  downward  smoke 
Slow-dropping  veils  of  thinnest  lawn  did  go. 

— [Tennyson.] 

35.  ...  and  if  his  fellow  spake, 

His  voice  was  thin,  as  voices  from  the  grave. 

— [Tennyson.] 

36.  Set  my  face  as  a  flint. — [Tennyson.] 

37.  And  his  cheek  brightened  as  thefoam-loiv  Irightens 
When  the  wind  blows  the  foam. — [Tennyson.] 

38.  The  shadow  of  his  loss  moved  like  eclipse, 
Darkening  the  world. — [Tennyson.] 

39.  Faintly  as  tolls  the  evening  chime, 

Our  voices  keep  tune,  and  our  oars  keep  time. 

— [Moore.] 

40.  Erin,  the  tear  and  the  smile  in  thine  eyes, 
Blend  like  the  rainbow  that  hangs  in  the  skies. 

— [Moore.] 

41.  Sad,  silent,  and  dark  be  the  tears  that  we  shew, 
As  the  night-dew  that  falls  on  the  grass  o'er  his 

head. — [Moore  ] 

42.  For  he  was  beautiful  as  day. — [Byron.] 

43.  Whose  tints  as  gently  sunk  away 

As  a  departing  rainbow7 s  ray. — [Byron.] 

44.  Who  looked  as  though  the  speed  of  thought 
Were  in  his  limbs. — [Byron.] 


APPENDIX.  287 

45.  Which  flung  from  its  bells  a  sweet  peal  anew 
Of  music  so  delicate,  soft  and  intense, 

It  was  felt  like  an  odor  within  the  sense. 

[Shelley.] 

46.  It  loves  even  like  Love. — [Shelley.] 

47.  The  plumed  insects  swift  and  free, 

Like  golden  boats  on  a  sunny  sea.  —  [Shelley.] 

48.  The  unseen  clouds  of  the  dew,  which  lie 
Like  fire  in  the  flowers  till  the  sun  rides  high. 

-[Shelley.] 

49.  In  which  every  sound,  and  odor,  and  beam, 
Move,  as  reeds  in  a  single  stream. — [Shelley.] 

50.  Whilst  the  lagging  hours  of  the  day  went  by 

Like  ivindless  clouds  o'er  a  tender  sky. — [Shelley.] 

51.  And,  as  a  dying  meteor  stains  a  wreath 

Of  moonlight  vapor,  which  the  cold  night  clips, 
It  flushed  through  his  pale  limbs  and  passed  to  its 
eclipse. — [Shelley.  ] 

52.  .     .     .  the  moving  pomp  might  seem 

Like  pageantry  of  mist  on  an  autumnal  stream. 

—[Shelley.] 

53.  And  the  green  lizard,  and  the  golden  snake, 

Like    unimprisoned  flames,    out    of  their  trance 
awake. — [  Shelley.  ] 

54.  For  the  pomp  and  pleasure  of  Pride, 
We  toil  like  Afric  slaves. — [Hood.] 

55.  Thy  soul  ivas  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart. 

— [Wordsworth.  ] 

56.  Mute  in  her  grave  as  her  image  in  marble  above. 

— [Tennyson.] 

57.  Shining  like  a  dove's  neck. 

58.  A  polished  shaft  in  the  temple  of  letters  we  are 
more  struck  with  the  leauty  of  the  workmanship  than 
with  the  weight  supported. 


288  APPENDIX. 

59.  God  puts  our  prayers  like  rose-leaves,  between  the 
leaves  of  his  book  of  remembrance,  and  when  the  volume 
is  opened  at  last,  there  shall  be  a  precious  fragrance 
springing  from  them. — [Spurgeon,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 


CLIMAX. 

• 

1.  Exhausted,  spiritless,  afflicted,  fallen. — [Milton.] 

2.  Unrespited,  unpitied,  unreprieved. — [Milton.] 

3.  ...  then  in  an  hour 

Ensnared,  assaulted,  overcome,  led  bound, 
Thy  foe's  derision,  captive,  poor  and  blind. 

4.  These  rags,  this  grinding  is  not  yet  so  base 
As  was  my  former  servitude  ignoble, 
Unmanly,  ignominious,  infamous. — [Milton.] 

5.  Then  knowest  the  magistrates 

And  princes  of  my  country  came  in  person, 
Solicited,  commanded,  threatened,  urg'd, 
Adjured  by  all  the  bonds  of  civil  duty 
And  of  religion,  press'd  how  just  it  was 
How  honorable,  how  glorious  to  entrap 
A  common  enemy. — [Milton.] 

6.  Happen  what  may,  of  me  expect  to  hear 
Nothing  dishonorable,  impure,  unworthy 
Our  God,  our  law,  our  nation,  or  myself. 

-[Milton.] 

7.  He  was  young,  hopeful,  and  intelligent. 

8.  He  was  distinguished  at  home,  in   the  field,  and  in 
the  council. 

9.  Torn,  tattered,  and  terrified  he  reached  his  destina- 
tion.—[H.  W.  Jameson.] 

10.  Language  can  inform  words  with  the  spiritual  phi- 
losophy of  the  Pauline  epistles,  the  living  thunder  of  a 


APPENDIX.  289 

Demosthenes,  or  the  material  picturesqueness  of  a  Russell. 
-[Marsh.] 

11.  I  am  told  several  pickpockets  are  here.     Let  them 
remember  that  the  eye  of  God  is  on  them  ;  and  also  that 
there  are  a  number  of  policemen  in  the  house. — [Wesley, 
cited  by  Macbeth.] 

12.  It  was  after  the  angry  dispensations  of  Providence 
had,  with  a  progressive  severity  of  chastisement,  visited 
the  land  with  a  famine  one  year,  and  with  a  Colonel 
Hannah  the  next. — [Sheridan,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

13.  Who  can  describe  the  tears,  the  lamentations,  the 
agonies,  the  animated  remonstrances  of  the  unfortunate 
prisoners  ? 

PERSONIFICATION. 

1.  May,  with  her  cap  crowned  with  roses, 
Stood  in  her  holiday  dress  in  the  fields. 

2.  And  clamorous  labor 

Knocked  with  its  hundred  hands  at  the  golden  gate  of 
the  morning.  — [Longfellow.] 

3.  0  wake,  while  Dawn  with  dewy  shine 
Wakes  Nature's  charms  to  vie  with  thine  ! 
She  bids  the  mottled  thrush  rejoice 

To  mate  thy  melody  of  voice. 

4.  Now  old  desire  doth  in  his  death-bed  lie, 
And  young  affection  gapes  to  be  his  heir. 

— [Shakespeare.] 

5.  Two  of  the  fairest  stars  in  all  the  heaven, 
Having  some  business,  do  entreat  her  eyes 
To  twinkle  in  their  spheres  till  they  return. 

6.  The  gray-ey'd  morn  smiles  on  the  frowning  night. 
.     .     .  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  morning  angel,  girt  with  golden  wings, 
And  thou unblemished  form  of  Chastity. — [Milton.] 

19 


7. 


290  APPENDIX. 

8.  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll. 

—[Byron.] 

9.  Night  threw  her  mantle  o'er  the  sky. 

10.  The  beauty  of  the  laughing  ivaterfall. 

11.  Then  Ire  came  in,  with  start  and  strife, 
His  hand  was  aye  upon  his  knife. 

— [Dunbar,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

12.  The  Pyramids,  doting  with  age,  have  forgotten 
the  names  of  their  founders. — [Fuller,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

13.  A  ghastly  Castle  that  eternally 

Holds  its  blind  visage  out  to  the  lone  Sea. 

— [Leigh  Hunt,  cited  by  Macbeth.  ] 

14.  There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim  gray, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay. 

— [Collins,  cited  by  Macbeth.  ] 

15.  The  Hack-winged  legions  of  tempest  arise. 

— [Owen  Meredith,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

16.  Red  Battle  stamped  his  foot,  and  nations  felt  the 

shock.  — [Byron,  cited  by  Macbeth.] 

17.  "Welcome,  maids  of  honor, 

You  do  bring 
In  the  Spring 
And  wait  upon  her. 

— [Herrick,  cited  by  Macbeth.  ] 


INDEX. 


ADDRESS,  its  objects,  22;  order,  23; 
kinds,  24. 

Adverbs,  dependence  of,  202. 

Affections,  40. 

Analogy,  144. 

Anglo-Saxon  words,  200. 

Antithesis,  196. 

Arguments,  nature  of,  choice  and  ar- 
rangement, 63;  kinds  of,  78. 

Arrangement  of  words,  201,  242. 

Art,  what,  9;  relation  to  science,  10; 
those  subsidiary  to  rhetoric,  14. 

Asseverations,  237. 


Bar,  legal  oratory,  50. 
Barbarism,  152;  kinds,  153* 
Burden  of  proof,  84. 

O. 

Calculation  of  chances,  75. 

Canons  of,  144. 

Capacity  of  audience,  185. 

Choice  of  words,  197,  235;  of  argu- 
ments, 86. 

Common  life,  language  of,  199. 

Comparisons,  193. 

Composition,  what,  13;  departments 
of,  20. 

Compounds,  156;  rules  for  construc- 
tion, 157. 


Conjunctions,  solecism  in,  171. 
Consciousness,  form  of  proof,  65. 
Conventional  phrases,  149. 
Criticism  on  language,  143. 


D. 

Declension,  marks  of,  160. 
Deduction,  78. 
Definiteness  of  end,  227. 
Deliberative  eloquence,  49. 
Desires  connected  with  energy,  223, 
Development  of  composition,  25. 
Directness,  231. 
Discipline  of  taste,  211. 
Drollery,  199. 


E. 


Education,  effect  on  words,  198. 
Elegance,  182;  how  secured,  207. 
Eloquence,  nature  of,  60. 
Emotions,  kinds,  and  how  aroused,  95, 
Energy,  182 ;  how  reached,  223. 
Epithets,  237. 
Etymology,  146. 
Experience,  what,  68. 


F. 


Fallacies,  68,  71,  92. 
Feeling,  at  the  disposal  of  orator,  105, 
107  j  connection  with  elegance,  208, 


292 


INDEX. 


Figures,  connection  with  energy,  244. 
Foreign  words,  152. 


H. 

Humor,  what,  119;  contrasted  with 
wit,  120. 


Imagination,  office  of,  113. 

Improprieties,  172;  disadvantages  of, 
177. 

Induction,  78. 

Influence,  law  of,  55. 

Interest,  as  a  motive,  42  j  warping  lan- 
guage, 188. 

Introductions,  office  of,  100. 

Intuitions,  what,  04. 


L. 


Language,  relation  to  thought,  125  ; 

changes  of,    128;    constituents    of, 

129. 

Literature,  knowledge  of,  214. 
Loose  sentence,  243. 


M. 

Man,  knowledge  of,  213. 
Means  of  composition,  53. 
Memory,  form  of  proof,  65  j  office  of, 
117;  how  addressed,  117. 


ST. 

Nature,  knowledge  of,  212. 

Novel,  what,  30. 

Number  of  words,  201,  239. 


O. 


Obscurity  of  subject,  186 ;  ever  appo- 
site, 204. 


Opinion,  confounded  with  observa- 
tion, 74 ;  opinions  the  audience  have 
of  speakers,  96. 

Oratory,  relation  to  ends  and  means, 
and  its  kinds,  36. 


P. 


Partisan  feeling,  98. 

Passion,  41. 

Passive  verb,  170. 

Period,  243. 

Permanence  of  literature,  136. 

Perspicuity,  181 ;  how  secured,  185. 

Philosophy  of  art,  of  rhetoric,  what 
12;  advantages  of,  19. 

Plan,  191. 

Pleasure,  as  a  motive,  41. 

Pleonasm,  241. 

Poetry,  what,  and  relations,  32. 

Progress,  in  oration,  110. 

Pronouns,  reference  of,  203. 

Proof,  sources  of,  64 ;  kinds,  77 ;  perti- 
nent, 83. 

Propriety,  136 ;  why  regarded,  136. 

Prose,  forms  of,  28. 

Provincialisms,  153. 

Principle,  what  relations  of,  11. 

Purity,  what,  136 ;  importance  of,  174. 


Q, 

Qualities   of  style,   181 ;   relation  to 
each  other,  209. 


B. 

Rapidity,  229. 

Reason,  form  of  proof,  67. 

Relation,  between  style  and  subject, 

215;  between  parts  and  whole,  217; 

discourse   and   circumstances,   219; 

discourse  and  speaker,  221. 
Rhetoric,  what,  13 ;   steps  by  which 

reached,  14. 

Ridicule,  what,  123 ;  office  of,  123. 
Right,  as  a  motive,  39. 


INDEX. 


293 


Right,  as  a  law  of  influence,  50. 

Rule,  what,  and  relations  of,  11  ;  rela- 
tion to  nature,  10 ;  relation  to  genius, 
17;  relation  to  success,  17. 


S. 


Science,  what,  9 ;  relation  to  arts,  12. 

Senses,  form  of  proof,  0-1. 

Skill,  what,  10. 

Solecism,  canon  on,  148;  what,  159; 

disadvantages  of,  175 ;  examples  of, 

163. 

Speciality,  23G. 
Strength,  22S. 
Style,  what,  179  ;  kinds,  180;  qualities 

of,  181. 

Subjunctive,  103. 
Success,  dependent  on  right,  57. 
Symmetry,  138. 
Sympathy,  importance  of,  95 ;  methods 

of  securing,  102. 
Synonymes,  173. 


T. 

Tautology,  241. 

Tense?,  laws  of,  105  j   errori  in,  168. 


Testimony,  form  of  proof, 
Thoroughness,  229. 
Tropes,  246. 


U. 

Univocal  words,  147. 
Use,  what,  134  ;  qualities  of,  136 ; 
established,  140 ;  divided  use,  142. 


V. 

Verbosity,  241. 

Vigor,  229. 

Virtue,  connected  with  energy,  227. 

Vivacity,  228. 

Vivid  ideas,  how  secured,  115. 

Vulgarisms,  153. 


W. 

Will,  connected  with  energy,  225. 

Wit,  what,  119;  dangers  of,  121;  ad- 
vantages of,  122. 

Words,  change  in  meaning,  130 ;  in 
philosophy,  131 ;  in  poetry,  131 ;  their 
strength,  236. 


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